


en la unión, está la fuerza.

by bisexualtrixiefranklin



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, F/M, High School AU, Modern AU, also, also they swear a lot, but i promise it isn’t anything too bad, but they’re mostly bg or not established till later, but you’re getting anyway, cw for underage drinking and some homophobia, hope you enjoy !! :)), i honestly cannot wrap my head around the english school system, i just think lowercase titles/summaries are so aesthetically pleasing :D, i miss the pats/deels/babs/trix era, it’s primarily pats/deels tho, phyllis is a brick, ps the fic has actual punctuation, so i’m not going to tag them just yet, so sorry for any inaccuracies, the ctm teenage romcom absolutely no one asked for, there’s more relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualtrixiefranklin/pseuds/bisexualtrixiefranklin
Summary: "in union, there is strength.""pardon?""en la unión, está la fuerza.' literally, it means: in union, there is strength.” ms crane says, nodding towards the poster barbara had been looking at. "it’s a spanish saying. in english, it's similar to something like 'there is strength in numbers.""oh," barbara reaches out to stroke the words on the poster with her pointer finger, "'in union, there is strength.' i like that."high school au.
Relationships: Delia Busby/Patsy Mount
Comments: 65
Kudos: 99





	1. hemlines, homework, and (closeted) homsexuality.

**P** 🥂👯💅🏼💞 **:** _ **I’m outside x**_

 **P** 🥂👯💅🏼💞 **: _Hurry up you pain in the arse_**

 **Trix** 👸🏼 **:** _ **just coming dw!! Xx**_

* * *

Patsy looks up from her phone and waves as Trixie knocks on the car window. She starts the car engine as the blonde climbs into the passenger seat, all blonde curls and bright lipstick.

“You know, every year I forget how much I fucking _hate_ school uniform.” Trixie says by way of greeting. Patsy rolls her eyes, used to her best friend’s melodrama.

“Good morning to you too, Trix.” Patsy teases, taking the blonde’s bag from her and tossing it into the back seat. Trixie pokes her tongue out at the redhead’s sarcastic tone. Patsy sticks her middle finger up in retort, then flicks her indicator on and pulls the car out into the road. Trixie rolls down her window a little and leans forward to adjust the radio.

“You look lovely, by the way.” Trixie says, sinking back into her seat. Patsy smiles so that the dimples in her cheeks deepen.

“Thank you. You look very nice as well. I like your hair.”

“Thank you! I slept with those bendy rollers in-” Trixie pulls down the sun visor so she can look in its mirror “-They actually worked so so well, you just have to, like, comb them out lots when you take them out.”

Patsy hums in agreement. The two girls drive in silence for a few moments.

“Ugh, do we have to listen to this song? It’s shit.” Patsy groans as she recognises the chorus of the song Trixie had put on.

“It’s good! You like it, you listened to it all the time during the hols!”

“No, you and Barbara listened to it basically on loop and I tried my hardest to tune it out every time.”

“Oh, shut up.” Trixie says, turning the music up just to annoy Patsy. “It’s good and it makes me think of summer, which means I can pretend we aren’t going back to school.” She sighs and throws her hand to her forehead exaggeratedly.

“You say that, but we both know you bloody _love_ school.” Patsy quips, taking her attention off the road briefly so she can look at the blonde sceptically. Trixie beams.

“Yeah, I do.” She agrees, running a hand through her hair. “You know, I was thinking - I’ve just got, like, a really good feeling about this year. A-levels, applying to Cambridge, sixth form prom, turning 18 – it’s going to be so good, Patsy. It’s just going to be the best year ever.”

The corner of Patsy’s mouth lifts into her signature fish-hook smile at Trixie’s enthusiasm and shining eyes.

“Softie.” She teases, reaching out to dig her finger into Trixie’s thigh. The blonde throws her head back and laughs, knocking Patsy’s hand away playfully.

 _‘The best year ever_.’ Although she’d never mention it to Trixie’s face, Patsy can’t help but agree.

* * *

“Skirt, please, Miss Franklin.”

“Miss, I’ve literally just walked in the door!” Trixie cries as Ms Crane stops her in the foyer.

“And your skirt is ‘literally’ about six inches too short.” The teacher retorts. “Unroll it. Now.”

Trixie scowls and folds her arms. Ms Crane raises a cautionary eyebrow.

“Don’t be petulant, Trixie, or I will _fetch_ my tape measure.”

Trixie huffs but obliges begrudgingly, knowing Ms Crane won’t hesitate to write her up for a uniform violation. Patsy desperately tries not to laugh as the blonde makes a big production of pulling her jumper up and unrolling the waistband of her skirt. Once her hemline is brushing her knees again, Trixie turns to face Ms Crane with her hands on her hips and does a big, exaggerated twirl.

“Better?”

“Yes, much better. Thank you for your cooperation.” Ms Crane says, trying to hide her smile at Trixie’s theatrics. “Sister Julienne wants to see you both. She asked me to send you to her as soon as you arrived.”

Trixie and Patsy turn to look at each other with wide eyes. Ms Crane tuts.

“There’s no need to look so worried, girls – in fact, I’m sure you’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about at all.” Ms Crane’s hard exterior cracks briefly as she smiles at the girls and winks knowingly. “Now, hurry up – she’s a busy woman and she hasn’t got all day. Off you go.”

* * *

The door to Sister Julienne’s office is ajar. Patsy knocks on it lightly and pokes her head into the room, Trixie standing a few steps behind her.

“Ms Crane said you wanted to speak to us?” She queries. Sister Julienne looks up from her desk and beckons for the girls to enter.

“Ah, yes, do come in, girls. Take a seat.” She removes her glasses as Patsy and Trixie sit down on the other side of her desk. “I trust you had a good holiday?”

“Yes, it was lovely.” Trixie replies, smoothing her skirt over her knees to try and hide the fact she’s nervous. “How was yours?”

“Very nice, thank you for asking.” Sister Julienne looks at the two girls, and then her face breaks out into a smile. “Let’s drop the formalities – I think you both know why you’re here.”

Patsy laughs softly. Trixie lets out a shaky breath, the nun’s smile immediately relaxing her. They glance at each other and then nod. Sister Julienne turns her attention to Trixie, clasping her hands together in front of her on the desk.

“Miss Franklin - you’ve been a diligent and hard-working pupil since your first day in this school. You are an excellent representative for both the school and the wider community. Your kindness, passion, and determination make you an excellent role model for our younger pupils. I take great pride in being able to call you a Nonnatus pupil, and that is why I’d like to ask you to take on the role of head girl this year.”

Trixie looks like she’s about to cry, her hand over her mouth in disbelief.

“Oh, Sister - I would be honoured - but there’s so many amazing girls - are you sure?”

“I am certain. It was decided before the holidays. I think it might be the quickest head girl decision we’ve ever made. There was no doubt in my mind you were the right girl for the role this year.”

Somewhere during Sister Julienne’s speech, Patsy has grabbed Trixie’s hand and is squeezing it tightly.

“Sister, I would - thank you so much.” Trixie wipes a stray tear from her eye with her index finger, thrilled. Her eyes are shining from a mixture of tears and sheer delight. Sister Julienne smiles kindly and pushes the box of Kleenex on her desk towards Trixie. The blonde accepts one gratefully, chuckling as Patsy congratulates her, neither of them able to keep the smiles of their faces.

“And Miss Mount-” Patsy’s head snaps upward at Sister Julienne’s gentle voice. “Although you joined us a few years into your high school career, you have given so much to Nonnatus during your time here. You are an intelligent and motivated young woman – and, if I’m not very much mistaken – you received the highest GCSE results in your year.”

Patsy ducks her head to hide her blush as Sister Julienne continues.

“You have shown a great deal of resilience and courage despite the adversity you have faced in your personal life, and those qualities are why I’d like you to assist Miss Franklin as Depute Head Girl this year.”

“I would love to.” Patsy breathes as Trixie squeezes her arm. “Thank you so much, Sister. I won’t let you down.”

Sister Julienne beams, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she reaches into her desk drawer and hands Trixie and Patsy a light blue, shield-shaped badge each. Trixie traces her thumb over the gold writing.

“I believe you will be quite the formidable double-act.” Sister Julienne says. The girls giggle in agreement.

“Can we tell people, or do you want us to wait?” Trixie asks, pocketing her badge.

“We’re going to have an assembly first thing – I’ll announce it officially then. I don’t mind if you tell a few people, but leave the badges off until then.” The nun instructs, leaning back in her seat. “If that’s all, girls, you’re free to go. I’ll see you at assembly.”

Trixie and Patsy thank Sister Julienne again and take their leave, Trixie linking her arm through Patsy’s. When they’re out of the offices corridor and back in the foyer, Trixie grabs both of Patsy’s hands; then they’re both jumping and squealing and hugging, ignoring the strange looks they’re getting from other girls walking in the door.

“I’m so proud of you!” Trixie cries, throwing her arms around Patsy’s neck.

“I’m so proud of _you_!” Patsy replies, returning Trixie’s hug.

“Girls, can we keep it down, please? It isn’t even nine o’clock.” Ms Crane interrupts, but her eyes are twinkling.

“You _knew_.” Trixie says, mock-affronted.

“I’ve known since before the summer, lass.” Ms Crane replies, clapping Trixie’s shoulder in a rare gesture of friendliness. “Well done, you two. I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.”

“Don’t, Miss, you’ll set me off again.” Trixie jokes, fanning her face with her hands as Patsy and Ms Crane laugh.

“Patsy? Trixie?” A familiar voice calls over the gaggle of girls coming through the front door, and then Barbara is taking a few steps backwards to balance herself as Trixie throws her whole weight into her arms.

“Good morning! Why are we all shouting?” Barbara asks, looking a little confused.

“I’m head girl!” Trixie replies excitedly. Barbara gasps, then they’re both speaking over each other at a mile a minute.

“I don’t know how your head doesn’t hurt constantly with their racket,” Ms Crane mutters beside Patsy, “Lord knows mine does.”

Patsy snorts with stifled laughter. She catches Barbara’s eye over Trixie’s shoulder. The brunette looks at her expectantly. Patsy’s mock-innocent expression lasts about a minute before she nods, answering Barbara’s unspoken question. Barbara grins, and then she’s flinging her arms around the redhead and talking very fast. Patsy can’t really understand a word she’s is saying, so she just hugs her tightly instead of answering her.

“ _Alright_ , girls, break it up - we’ve had more than enough histrionics for today.” Ms Crane sighs. Barbara apologises sheepishly, still not used to getting told off by teachers even after 12 years.

“Off you go, up to the common room and stop clogging up the doorway.” Ms Crane continues, ushering the trio out of the foyer and up the staircase. “Oh, and Miss Gilbert?”

Barbara stops halfway up the stairs at the sound of her name. She looks at Trixie and Patsy as if to ask them what she’s done. The two older girls shrug. Barbara takes a deep breath like she’s preparing for something and leans over the bannister to speak to Ms Crane.

“Yeah?”

“It’s _yes,_ not ‘yeah.’ And there’s going to be a sixth form assembly during registration. I’d like you to come and see me after it. I’ll be in my office.”

Barbara looks briefly alarmed for a moment, and then reverts to her usual sunny disposition.

“Of course, Miss. I’ll see you then.”

Barbara turns and practically runs up the rest of the stairs, making sure she’s well out of Ms Crane’s earshot before she speaks.

“Her office! I’ve, like, just come in! Why on Earth does she need to speak to me in her office?”

“Oh, come on, Babs, there’s no need to look so worried.” Patsy says as she reaches the landing. “She’s obviously going to ask you to be a prefect.”

“Really?”

“ _Yes_ , really.” Patsy rolls her eyes at Barbara’s obliviousness. “You’re an obvious choice.”

“And, last year, when it was us, we got asked during registration. She’ll be trying to set you up for head girl next year, being her favourite student and all.” Trixie teases, looping her arm through Barbara’s. “Now, come _on_ – it’s your first chance to sit in the common room with us. And, I swear to God, if the lower sixth have stolen our table, I’m going to go mental.”

“Hey, I’m lower sixth!” Barbara says with mock offense. Trixie drags her into the balcony that serves as one of the sixth form common rooms and, triumphantly, to a high-top table in the corner.

“Yes, but you’re, like, obviously different, aren’t you?” The blonde reaches out to tap the table. “This is _our_ table. Treat it with respect.”

“Except we don’t actually have allocated tables.” Patsy stage-whispers as she passes Barbara on her way to sit down, narrowly avoiding a slap from Trixie. Barbara giggles.

“ _Unofficially_ ,” Trixie elongates the word sarcastically, “it’s our table.”

“Will you just sit down? We aren’t in bloody parliament, stop trying to swear poor Barbara in!”

“I’m just trying to welcome her to sixth form properly!”

Patsy rolls her eyes.

“You are so fucking melodramatic. Babs, have a seat, please-” Patsy leans forward to push one of the chairs out from under the table and lowers her voice. “-You know, maybe, if you’re _very_ lucky, Trix will give you a tour of the sixth form toilets later on – ow, that hurt!”

Patsy doesn’t quite get out of Trixie’s way fast enough this time.

* * *

Trixie reaches the common room a couple of minutes after the bell rings for the start of break. A few people stop her to congratulate her as she pushes past the groups of chattering girls. She thanks them, ever the extrovert, on her way to the table. Barbara is already standing at it, digging through her backpack for her breaktime granola bar.

“Do you know Turner has given us homework already?” Trixie says indignantly as she reaches the table, depositing her bag on the chair beside Barbara. “It’s the first day! What an absolute fucking – oh, hello.”

Trixie catches sight of a girl she’s never seen before standing slightly behind Barbara. She’s much shorter than both of them, and her long, dark hair is swept up into a half-ponytail with a red headband tied around it. She nods towards the blonde in slightly awkward greeting. Trixie beams at her.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I’m Trixie – well, Beatrix, actually, but nobody calls me that.” She wrinkles her nose in distaste. The girl smiles, looking much more relaxed than she did a few seconds ago.

“I’m Delia – just Delia, it’s not short for anything.”

“Oh, yes, gosh, sorry – Delia’s new.” Barbara provides as if Trixie hadn't already worked that out for herself. “She’s from _Wales_ – how cool’s that? That’s why Ms Crane wanted to see me this morning - she asked me to show her around and introduce her to everyone, but, clearly, I’m not doing a very good job. Sorry, Delia.” Barbara pulls a face at her own uselessness, hauling herself up onto one of the bar chairs as Trixie and Delia laugh. “Where’s Patsy, Trixie? I need to show you both something.”

“Oh? She said she had to pee. She’ll just be a minute, I think.” Trixie says as she yanks her jumper up and starts folding the waistband of her skirt over itself again. “Have you heard from Tom?”

Barbara’s face lights up.

“Yeah, he texted me earlier. He’s head boy, isn’t that great? I told him about you and Patsy, I hope you don’t mind. Oh!” Barbara turns to Delia, who is looking increasingly more confused. “Patsy’s our other friend and Tom’s my boyfriend. He goes to the boys’ school.”

Delia laughs a little awkwardly, her expression still bemused.

“Sorry, like, it’s all just a lot to take in. My brain is having a hard time keeping up. And you talk _so_ fast!”

“Doesn’t she?” Trixie jokes, pulling her jumper back down and placing a hand on Delia’s arm. “Don’t worry, you’ll get better at understanding her eventually. Although, sometimes even _I_ can’t get a word in edgewise she talks so much!”

Trixie suffers an elbow in the ribs for her jibe, but it makes Delia laugh. As Trixie rubs her injured side, Barbara looks up and then begins waving frantically at Patsy, who has appeared further up the corridor. The redhead smiles back at her, quickening her pace.

“Hello, lovelies.” She says as she reaches their table, dropping her bag at her feet. “What’s got you all excited, Babs?”

“ _Look_!” Barbara reaches into her blazer pocket and presents a shield-shaped badge with “PREFECT” emblazoned on it. “I wanted to tell you both at the same time.”

Trixie squeals excitedly and throws her arms around Barbara. Patsy beams at the younger girl with delight.

“Oh, Babs! Didn’t I tell you?” She switches places with Trixie so she can hug the brunette herself. “Congratulations. I bet you Crane was over the bloody moon.”

Barbara nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah, she was. She said one of the reasons she wanted to see me at reg was so that she could tell me herself, instead of Miss Mannion or Sister Julienne.”

“You are _such_ a teacher’s pet.” Trixie teases.

“Says you!”

“The _other_ reason? What was the first one?” Patsy asks.

“Oh! I haven’t introduced you yet!” Barbara waves her hands in the air and turns in her seat, giving Patsy a clearer view of the unfamiliar girl behind her. “Delia, this is Patsy. Patsy, this is Delia. She’s new. And she’s from _Wales_.”

_Oh, fuck._

“Hello.” Patsy somehow manages to say despite the fact her mouth has gone completely dry.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

“Hi.” Delia replies shyly, raising her hand to give Patsy the _goddamn cutest_ wave she’s ever seen.

_Okay, Mount, pull yourself together. Oh God, she's so fucking pretty. Right, no. Babs and Trixie are literally right there. It's fine. She's just a girl. You go to school with loads of them and you've managed to not fall head over heels for any of them. Yet. Just act normal._

"Hello." Patsy repeats uselessly.

_Christ._

"It's nice to meet you." Delia offers. It's enough – thank God – to pull Patsy out of her thoughts and back into reality.

“And you!” She replies, far too brightly. “What part of Wales are you from?”

“Um, a place called Pembrokeshire. It’s sort of in, like, the South.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely. I’ve never been to Wales.”

Patsy cringes inwardly as she realises her mouth seems to have detached itself from her brain.

“Oh, you should go, if you can. It’s lovely. I mean, I know I’m biased, but it really is. Rains a lot though.”

Patsy laughs far too loudly, mostly because she doesn’t trust herself to say anything that won’t make her embarrass herself any further. Delia giggles once, and then there is a horrible beat of awkward silence. Patsy doesn’t think she’s ever wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole more than she does right now.

“So, Babs!” Patsy says, practically throwing herself into the seat across from Barbara, desperately trying to change the subject after what was possibly the most awful few seconds of her life. “A prefect! That’s so exciting!”

As Barbara rambles on (and, God love her, Barbara can always be trusted to ramble), Patsy tries to avoid Trixie’s suspicious gaze, with little success. After a while, she gives in and turns her head so she can meet the blonde’s eyes, twisting her mouth into a tight-lipped smile. Trixie narrows her eyes. Patsy is certain her smile is starting to look more like a grimace. She’s vaguely aware that Barbara has stopped talking in the background. She makes a non-committal hum that she hopes sounds like a noise of approval. Trixie raises a perfectly arched eyebrow and then turns her attention back to Delia.

“So, Delia,” she says, propping her chin up on her hand, “You’re in lower sixth like Barbara, yeah?”

Delia nods.

“So, what brings you to England for sixth form then, sweetie?”

“Oh, my Mam studied here.”

“In London?” Barbara asks through a mouthful of granola bar.

“Babs! Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Patsy scolds. Barbara rolls her eyes.

“No, as in, like, right here. At Nonnatus.” Delia says. The other three girls stare at her.

“Shut up, actually?”

“No way! That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, I guess.” Delia looks a little embarrassed at the sudden attention, but her smile has practically doubled in size. “Her sister – my Auntie Blod – she moved up to London to go to uni. Mam decided she quite liked the idea of it as well, so she came here for her sixth form. She’s talked about how great it is my whole life. I mean, it was different back then: like, _all_ the teachers were nuns, not just some of them. She loves that it’s still religious and that the nuns are still involved. Cried her eyes out when she found out I’d got in. Although, I practically had to beg her to let me come after-” Delia cuts herself off, her face panicked like she’s said something she shouldn’t have and caught herself just a moment too late. She stutters for a few seconds and then seems to collect herself. “-Anyway, it’s a bit like history repeating itself, since I’m staying with my Auntie Blod as well, just like Mam did when she came here. She used to live in Hornsey when I was little, but she moved a bit closer a few years ago. It’s been a bit strange adjusting to it all but, like, it’s nice. Me and Auntie Blod have always been really close so we get along great, and she’s way more lenient with me than my Mam, so…”

Delia tails off a little bashfully, her face flushed after speaking for so long.

“That’s, like, _so_ cool, Delia,” Barbara says eagerly, “I wonder if some of the teachers remember her.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. She wasn’t, like, head girl or dux or anything particularly memorable. And, anyway, it was, like, 30 years ago.”

“Yeah, but some of the nuns have been here for-fucking-ever,” Trixie jokes, digging her lip balm out of the front pocket of her bag, “Like, Julienne and Evangelina have been here since they were, like, our age.”

“They have not been here since they were _17_ , Trix.” Patsy rolls her eyes.

“Oh, you know what I mean, Patsy. They’ve been here for ages, that’s my point.”

“If anyone’s going to remember her, it’ll be Monica Joan. Can’t remember what she had for her breakfast that morning, but she remembers every single word of Keats and every single fucking student that’s walked through these doors.”

“Oh, God love her. I hope she’s at mass on Friday. She’s always got good chat after a holiday.” Trixie muses as she reapplies her lip-gloss using the front camera of her phone.

The bell goes. Trixie throws her head back melodramatically and groans.

“Ugh, fuck off – have we got maths?” She asks Patsy, who is flicking through her folder for her timetable.

“Yeah, I think it’s a double – hang on.”

“I think you’re in Spanish with me next, Delia.” Barbara says, getting her things from her bag. “We can go over together.”

Delia nods, looking very relieved to be back under Barbara’s wing again.

“Have you got Crane again, Barbara?” Trixie asks, slipping her calculator into her blazer pocket.

“Yeah, thank goodness-” Barbara turns to Delia. “-Ms Crane from this morning, yeah? She’s lovely, I promise. I mean, she comes off as a bit…strict but she’s such a good teacher and she’s so nice if you stay on her good side. Which you will.”

“Stick with Babs, she’s her favourite.” Patsy teases. Barbara sticks her tongue out in retaliation. “Come _on_ , Trix. We’re going to be late. You know how Evangelina is and, I don't know about you, but I really don’t fancy having to deal with her shit today.”

Trixie rolls her eyes but lets the redhead grab her by the wrist and start pulling her out of the common room.

“See you at lunch, sweeties!” She calls back to a giggling Barbara and Delia. “Ow, Patsy, my wrist doesn’t bloody bend that way!”

* * *

“I think you’ve bloody broken my wrist.” Trixie laments as Patsy drags her into the maths classroom and towards a table by the window. “Oh, do we _have_ to sit beside the window, Patsy? It’s always freezing.”

“Well, I like the window.” Patsy says stand-offishly. “You can sit somewhere else, no-one’s forcing you to sit beside me.”

“Alright, what the Hell has gotten into you?” Trixie asks, suddenly serious, sitting down in the chair beside the redhead. “And what was all that with Delia earlier?”

“All _what_ with Delia?” Patsy forces herself to laugh, silently hoping her face doesn’t look as warm as it feels.

“All _that._ You just, like, froze up and wouldn’t speak to her properly when Barbara introduced you. And then sat there with a face like thunder and barely said anything for the rest of break.”

Patsy sighs and then the strained, falsely bright smile is back on her face. She starts rummaging intently through her pencil-case so she doesn’t have to look Trixie in the eye.

“I just – I’m just a bit tired, that’s all. My body is still running on holiday time, I think.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Trixie give her the same suspicious look she had earlier. Her pencil-case has suddenly become the most interesting thing she's ever seen in her life.

_Please stop fucking looking at me like that, Trixie. Yes, I know you’re meant to be my best friend and, yes, I know I’m keeping what might be the biggest secret of my whole entire life from you; but can you please just let this one thing go because I am not ready to-_

A foghorn-like voice interrupts Patsy’s thoughts from the doorway.

“Alright, ladies, you’ll all be pleased to know that I’m in an absolutely fantastic mood this morning.”

And, Christ, she never thought she’d actually be happy to see Evangelina.

* * *

Patsy somehow manages to get through the rest of the day without embarrassing herself. Lunch is a bit of an ordeal – mostly because she’s doing everything she can to avoid Delia’s impossibly blue eyes. Thankfully, Barbara talks at speed for most of it; Trixie occasionally interjecting with a complaint about how her make-up is ruined already or how uncomfortable the uniform is. Patsy spends most of the 40 minutes tuned out, trying not to think about the Welsh lilt in Delia’s voice. She’s also secretly glad Evangelina had put them through their paces in maths – pages of revision had left both her and Trixie absolutely exhausted, and the blonde doesn’t once shoot her a suspicious look or comment on her silence.

In the afternoon, Patsy spends her double period off in the common room with her biology homework whilst the other three girls are in class. It’s oddly calming. She puts an earphone into one of her ears and settles into the familiar routine of writing and highlighting and scoring out. It works as a distraction for a while, but then her thoughts start spinning around her head again.

It’s not that she doesn’t _want_ to tell Trixie. She wants to tell her more than she’s ever wanted to tell anyone anything. She’s her best friend - they tell each other _everything_. And it’s not because she’s ashamed – because she’s not, not really. She’s known it herself for a long time, and she’d been figuring it out for ages before that. She’s not afraid of admitting it.

It’s just – there’s something holding her back. Which, truthfully, makes no sense – it’s not like Trixie is going to judge her. Her best friend is a lot of things, but narrow-minded isn’t one of them.

So why is it so hard to find the courage to tell Trixie her secret? Maybe because, right now, that’s all it is – a secret. And telling Trixie would stop it from being one – and maybe that’s what she’s actually afraid of. Usually, she hates keeping secrets – but this one is so much bigger than any whispered crush or embarrassing story.

 _I’m gay_.

_See? Come on, Mount. It’s not hard._

_So why can’t I tell Trixie?_

She jumps as a bag is dropped onto the seat beside her.

“Penny for them?” A Welsh accent asks, and Patsy suddenly finds herself looking into Delia’s wide, blue eyes.

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

“Oh, it’s just…this homework is a bit confusing, that’s all.” Patsy says unconvincingly, removing the earphone from her ear. She closes her notebook before Delia can spot the page full of her neat handwriting and see right through her lie. “Isn’t Babs with you?”

“Oh, um, she and Trixie went to music but I had art last.” Delia explains, picking up a folder she’d left on a chair and putting it in her bag. “She offered to come and fetch me before the end of the day, but I said I was fine. I sort of just wanted to see if I could find my own way back here. And I did!”

Patsy laughs much too loudly again (seriously, what is _wrong_ with her?) but, this time, Delia responds with a genuine smile. She’s got dimples. Patsy’s heartrate quickens at the discovery.

There’s an awkward silence until Patsy realises it’s her turn to speak. She silently pleads herself not to say anything embarrassing.

“How was your first day?”

Delia looks surprised, as if she hadn’t expected Patsy to ask.

“Oh! It was – well, I loved it, actually.” She tucks her hair behind her ears as her smile gets even bigger. “The building’s amazing. And everyone is _so_ lovely.”

“Barbara didn’t completely talk you ear off then?”

“Oh, no, of course not!” Delia says frantically, a crease forming between her eyebrows. Patsy does her best not think about how cute she looks when she’s flustered.

“I’m only joking, don’t worry.” Patsy soothes with a laugh. “I’ve just known Babs long enough to know she never bloody shuts up.”

Delia giggles. Patsy is suddenly desperate to make her laugh again.

“Well – yes, she does talk a lot. But she’s _so_ nice. I know you already know that but…” Delia trails off, biting her lip and looking at Patsy shyly. Patsy wants to respond with something witty, but Delia’s bright eyes seem to have made her mouth stop working.

Trixie’s voice floats down the corridor. Delia looks up towards the blonde, breaking their eye contact. Patsy’s chest aches a little but she’s almost grateful for the distraction – she’s not sure how much longer she could’ve lasted before she made a complete fool of herself. Again.

“I’m _exhausted_.” Barbara groans as she and Trixie reach the table. She throws herself into a seat and puts her head on the desk. Patsy leans forward and ruffles the younger girl’s hair.

“Do you need a lift home, darling?” She asks, feeling much more comfortable now the other two girls have arrived. Barbara lifts her head onto her hands and smiles gratefully at Patsy.

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind. I’m going to Margaret’s though.”

“I’ll drop you off there, it’s no problem.” Patsy says kindly, putting her biology stuff into her bag. “Trixie, you’re coming with me, yeah?”

Trixie nods, shrugging her blazer on and pulling her hair out of its collar. Patsy’s eyes land on Delia again. She looks extremely out-of-place, fidgeting with a zip on her bag.

“How are you getting home, Delia?” Patsy asks. She tells herself it’s because it’s the nice thing to do, and definitely _not_ just because she wants an excuse to be around the Welsh girl for a little bit longer. Delia looks up at her with wide eyes,

“Oh – um – well, I was just going to get the bus. I think.”

“Don’t be silly, I can give you a lift.”

“Oh no – thank you, but I don’t want you to go out of your way-”

“I really don’t mind taking a detour. I’m dropping Barbara off at her sister’s and that’s past my house anyway.” Patsy insists. “I wouldn’t offer if I minded. Trust me.”

Delia still looks a little uncertain.

“I really don’t want to be a burden-”

“You’re not, I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Trixie sighs, taking both of Delia’s hands. “Yes, she’s sure. Come with us.”

Delia looks back at Patsy anxiously as Trixie drags her out of the common room and into the corridor, but the redhead is already fishing her car key out of her bag and shouting for Barbara to hurry up.

“Patsy?” Trixie asks, turning so she is walking backwards and facing the redhead. “Can we go for milkshakes?”

“I thought you were watching your figure?” Patsy responds, cocking an eyebrow. Barbara snorts beside her. Trixie gasps, pretending to be insulted.

“You are so _rude_ , Patsy Mount.”

Just before Trixie practically wrestles her out of the double doors, Delia manages to catch Patsy’s eye. She throws her a nervous half-smile over Trixie’s shoulder. Patsy bites her bottom lip in a futile attempt to supress her grin.

Maybe milkshakes aren’t such a bad idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO :D lockdown is rly stressing me out, so i figured i might as well channel it into finally properly writing this little idea I've had bouncing about in my head for literally forever. i haven't actually written anything in full for 3+ years so it's been a nice wee challenge.
> 
> originally chapter 1 & 2 were combined into one chapter, but then suddenly i'd written 3000 words and i was only a quarter of the way through, so i decided to split them. sorry about all the dialogue - i promise stuff will actually happen and we'll meet the rest of the gang next chapter.
> 
> i'm lowkey a bit nervous abt posting this but i hope you enjoyed it!! hope everyone is keeping well and staying safe. <3
> 
> \- b x


	2. milkshakes, madonna, and (stolen) marlboros.

Trixie only lets go of Delia once they reach the courtyard between the entrances to the girls’ and boys’ school, convinced enough that the younger girl won’t try to run away from them.

“Hurry up!” She calls to Barbara and Patsy, who are still lagging a few steps behind them, tugging at the knot of her tie.

The two of them look completely unbothered, both on their phones. Patsy has hers tucked under her ear, talking to someone, and Barbara is tapping furiously at hers.

“Hello? Am I, like, invisible?”

Trixie looks at Delia and sighs dramatically, reaching up to undo the top button of her shirt. Delia giggles, already warming to the blonde’s melodramatic tendencies.

“I’m phoning Nanny so she knows I won’t be home until later and doesn’t think I’m _dead_.” Patsy replies as she and Barbara catch up with the other two girls.

“And Tom’s texting me,” Barbara says, still glued to her phone, “He’s asking if we’ve left yet.”

“Well, we have left, so-”

“Trixie.” Barbara whines, pouting.

“Don’t, Trix,” Patsy chides, putting her phone into her blazer pocket and wrapping her arm around Barbara’s shoulders, “Be nice. The poor lambs haven’t seen each other in person for, like, _two whole days_.”

Barbara shrugs Patsy’s arm away moodily, the lines between her eyebrows creasing. The redhead laughs in response, reaching out to flick at Barbara’s pouted bottom lip. The younger girl knocks her hand away with an irritated noise, but then her entire face lights up. Patsy follows her line of sight until she sees a familiar dark-haired boy walking towards them.

“Tom!” Barbara squeals, flinging into her boyfriend’s arms and kissing him without even glancing behind her. Delia makes a startled noise. There are a few titters and murmurs from surrounding pupils.

“Honestly!” Trixie says exasperatedly, turning away from the couple. She rolls her eyes and makes a gagging motion, walking backwards until she collides into a tall, strawberry-blonde boy standing near Tom.

“Oh my God, I am so s-” Trixie stops in her tracks as she takes in the boy, who is holding her upper arms to keep her steady. “- _Hello_.”

“Watch out.” The boy teases. “Can’t have you falling over and breaking a nail.”

Trixie blushes. The boy doesn’t move his hands.

“I’m so sorry, I completely missed you. I was too busy being disgusted by those two.” She inclines her head towards Barbara and Tom. The boy pulls a face.

“Well, no harm done. And I can’t blame you – they are a bit nauseating.” He takes a step back and holds his hand out. “I’m Christopher Dockerill.”

Trixie beams and shakes his hand.

“I’m Beatrix – but people call me Trixie.”

“Well, it’s _very_ nice to meet you – Trixie.”

It’s Patsy’s turn to gag as she watches her best friend flick her hair off her shoulder flirtatiously. Delia chuckles, suddenly beside her. Patsy tries to ignore the fluttering of her heart at the sound of the brunette’s laughter.

“Trixie and Barbara are both a bit boy-crazy.” She says, leaning down a little so only Delia can hear her.

“I sort of figured that.” Delia replies, her voice full of laughter. She turns her head and her face is suddenly very close to Patsy’s, her expression curious. “But you’re not?”

Patsy tries her best not to notice Delia’s flowery perfume, or the way her nose scrunches when she smiles.

“Not what?” Patsy asks, Delia’s piercing blue eyes making her brain go blank again.

“Boy-crazy.”

“Oh, right.” All the blood in Patsy’s body seems to rush to her face and she turns away from Delia abruptly, trying to hide her flush underneath her hair. “Uhm, no, not-not really. I’ve got more-more important things to worry about than…than boys.”

_Nice one, Mount. Smooth._

She tucks her hair behind her ear, trying desperately to look anywhere other than into Delia’s eyes. Her gaze lands on Barbara and Tom. Barbara is still wrapped in Tom’s arms, their heads very close together.

“Oi!” Patsy flicks Barbara in the back of the head. She feels marginally bad about interrupting them, but, at this point, she’d probably do absolutely anything to avoid Delia’s curious stare and slightly tilted head.

“Ow! Patsy!” Barbara turns in Tom’s arms to face the redhead, her hand clutching the back of her head.

“If you don’t get your tongue out of Tom’s throat, one of the nuns is going to see.”

Barbara huffs.

“I didn’t even have my tongue out.” She mutters, but reluctantly unwraps herself from Tom’s embrace, the possibility of Evangelina or Winifred catching them enough to douse any further thoughts of intimacy. She tucks herself into his side instead.

“Hello, Patsy.” Tom says sheepishly, running a hand over his hair,

“Hello, Tom. I hear congratulations are in order-” She points at a badge on the lapel of the boy’s blazer. “-Head boy. That’s awfully exciting.”

“Yes, it is, thank you. And well done to you too – depute head girl. I’m sure you and Trixie together will be a force to be reckoned with.”

“Yes, probably.” Patsy agrees awkwardly, silently praying that’s the end of their conversation.

It’s not that she doesn’t like Tom.

She does.

He really cares about Barbara and he’s, for the most part, completely inoffensive.

It’s just that talking to him just uses up a lot of her energy because – well, because he’s _fucking_ boring.

“Who’s Trixie chatting up?” Barbara asks after a beat.

“Oh, that’s Christopher, he’s the new guy I was telling you about.”

“There’s a new guy and you didn’t tell Trixie?” Patsy teases Barbara, raising an eyebrow. “She’ll kill you.”

“Well, she seems to be getting to know him _quite_ well right now. And, speaking of new people-” Barbara turns to Delia, stretching her hand out towards her. “-Tom, this is Delia. She’s the new girl in my year I texted you about. Delia, this is Tom, my boyfriend.”

Tom nods in greeting. Delia waves at him in return.

“You were texting about me? All good things I hope.” She says playfully. Barbara’s expression immediately becomes worried.

“Oh, my gosh, Delia, I promise I was just, like-”

“She’s joking, Babs.” Patsy says, noticing Delia’s own panicked expression. “Relax, both of you.”

Barbara and Delia smile at each other, a little embarrassed. Trixie and Christopher re-join the rest of the group, Trixie’s cheeks still a little darker than usual. Patsy catches her eye and raises her eyebrows questioningly. Trixie smirks and lifts her pointer finger to her lips.

“Christopher, this is Trixie – who you’ve already met – Patsy, and Delia,” Tom says, gesturing to each girl in turn, “And this is Barbara, my girlfriend.”

There is a round of hellos as the girls greet Christopher. Patsy checks her watch.

“If we’re still going for milkshakes, we should probably get going now.” She says, looking round at her friends.

Barbara and Trixie respond enthusiastically. Barbara presses a kiss to Tom’s cheek and crosses to Patsy and Delia. Christopher grabs Trixie’s wrist to stop her turning away from him and asks her something in a low voice. The other three girls pretend they aren’t looking on as Trixie takes Christopher’s phone and types something into it. She hands it back to him and says goodbye. She turns to the other girls, looking like she might burst with excitement, looping her arm through Patsy’s and pulling her down the stairs leading to the car park, Barbara and Delia right behind them.

“Do _not_ say it-”

“Fuck. _Me_!”

“Beatrix Franklin, you are _awful_.” Patsy tuts as they reach the bottom of the stairs.

“Are you joking? Patsy, did you _see_ him?”

“Trixie, I don’t think she could get a proper look with you all over him.” Barbara teases.

“I was not ‘all over him,’ thank you very much.” Trixie says shrilly. Barbara and Patsy look at each other and burst out laughing. Trixie looks affronted.

“Oh, Trixie, I’m sorry, you know we’re only joking.” Barbara says through giggles. “It’s just – you can’t _actually_ be serious.”

“Well, that’s a bit bloody hypocritical coming from _you_ , Barbara Gilbert. Standing there with your tongue practically lodged in Tom’s throat in front of absolutely everyone.”

Barbara laughs harder.

“Oh, come on, Trix, we’re only winding you up.” Patsy says as they reach her Mini. “And, if you want to try and pull him, we’ll support you.”

The redhead smirks as she climbs into the driver’s seat, tossing her school bag onto the floor at the passenger seat. Trixie scowls. Barbara gives a snort of poorly disguised laughter beside her.

“You all think you’re so funny but-” Trixie gasps and grabs Barbara’s arm. “-Oh my _God_!”

“What?”

“Look! Miss Mannion and Dr Turner! He’s walking her to her car. I fucking _told_ you!” Trixie says gleefully.

“You’re so _nosy_.” Patsy chides, although she’s leaning out of the car herself to try and get a better look at the two teachers across the car park.

“Shut the fuck up, they’re both getting _in_ the car! They’re, like, car-sharing!” Trixie squeals, shaking Barbara’s arm. “I told you they were shagging, didn’t I? Before the summer, I said they were shagging and you all made fun of me, but I was _right_. As usual.”

“Trixie, sharing a car doesn’t mean they’re sleeping together.”

“ _Patsy_. They’re both single, they’re, like, constantly flirting with each other, and now he’s driving her home? I think it’s safe to say there’s definitely something going on there.”

Patsy rolls her eyes, refusing to admit Trixie might actually be on to something. She sits back down in her seat and starts the car.

“Just stop gossiping and get in the car before they see you.”

Trixie pulls a face but obliges, getting into the passenger seat. Barbara clambers into the seat behind her.

“So, are they, like, a thing?” Delia asks beside Barbara, putting her seatbelt on.

Patsy and Trixie answer at the same time.

“No-”

“Yes-”

“ _No_.” Patsy says firmly, glaring at Trixie. She turns in her seat to face Delia. “Trixie is just _the_ biggest gossip you will ever meet in your whole life.”

Trixie sticks her tongue out at Patsy. Delia giggles. Patsy starts reversing out of the parking space before the brunette’s soft laughter makes her forget how to. Trixie plugs her phone into the AUX cord and scrolls through her songs until she finds the one she’s looking for.

“Madonna, Trix? Really?” Patsy says, her eyes flicking down to the display screen.

“Yes, really. What do you have against the queen of pop?”

Patsy opens her mouth to complain, yet again, about Trixie’s eclectic and, in her opinion, shit music taste.

“Oh, I love this song!” Delia pipes up from the backseat. Patsy shuts her mouth so quickly she almost cracks a tooth.

Maybe she’ll let Trixie have this one if it means keeping that adorable smile on Delia’s face.

“What was Christopher asking you, Trixie?” Barbara asks as they drive out of the school carpark.

“He got me to add him on Snapchat.” Trixie answers a little smugly, but her smile is genuine.

“He seems quite nice.” Barbara leans forward in her seat so her head is next to Trixie’s headrest. “And fit.”

“Barbara Gilbert, you have a boyfriend.” Trixie says, pretending to be scandalised.

“What? I still have _eyes_.” Barbara jokes. Trixie gives an inelegant snort of laughter that morphs into a loud gasp when she looks back down at her phone. Patsy breaks sharply.

“Trixie, for fuck’s sake! Did you have to do that whilst I’m at a give way? I thought a bloody car was coming!”

Trixie rolls her eyes.

“Christopher just snapchatted me!”

“Already?” Barbara cranes her neck to get a better look at Trixie’s phone. “What did he say?”

Patsy looks up and catches Delia’s eye in the rear-view mirror briefly.

“Told you.” She mouths. Those glorious dimples in Delia’s cheeks deepen again as she smiles. Patsy has to force herself to look back at the road.

God, she is so fucked.

* * *

Patsy parks outside a cosy-looking café with a weathered sign that reads ‘Mrs B’s.’ Trixie had explained to Delia during the remainder of the car journey that it was both their go-to place and where she worked at weekends. A bell rings above the door as they enter, Trixie and Barbara still poring over Trixie’s phone, analysing another message from Christopher. A girl with short dark hair looks up from the counter and beams at them.

“Hello, chicks!” She says brightly in a thick cockney accent.

“Hello, Val!” Patsy, Trixie, and Barbara chorus as they make their way up to the counter. Delia hangs back awkwardly. The girl notices.

“Hello.” She repeats, smiling kindly at Delia. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“No, um, I’m new to the area. I’m Delia.”

“Valerie Dyer.” The girl – Valerie – extends her hand and Delia shakes it gratefully. “You at Nonnatus with this lot then?”

“Yeah, I am. I’m in lower sixth.”

“Year below me, then.”

Delia tries not to look confused as she tries to place Valerie’s age.

“I left after my GCSEs.” Valerie clarifies. “Wanted to join the army but it, err, didn’t really work out. Came back during the summer. And now I’m here during the day and, at night, I’m pulling pints in my auntie’s pub. Although, I’m not quite 18 yet so, technically, it’s illegal – but let’s just ignore that fact.”

She winks and taps the side of her nose twice. Delia decides she likes her already.

“Has it been busy, Val?” Trixie asks, flicking through the diary at the end of the counter.

“Nah, not really. Mostly just regulars. You in on Sunday?”

“Yeah, I’m opening.” Trixie rolls her eyes. “Is table six free?”

“It’s all yours. Do yous know what you’re wanting? I’ll bring it over.”

The girls give Valerie their orders – three chocolate milkshakes and a vanilla one for Patsy – and make their way to their usual table at the window.

“Shotgun a comfy seat!” Barbara calls, pushing past the rest of them and throwing herself into one of the cushioned seats along the wall. Trixie squeezes in beside her, leaving Patsy and Delia to fill the other two chairs.

“So, Delia,” Trixie asks as the younger girl sits down opposite her. “What subjects are you taking? Spanish, art – what’s the other two?”

“Drama and biology. It’s a bit of a weird mix, I know. I’ve not really, like, decided what I want to do after school yet, so I sort of just took everything I got good GCSE marks in.”

“Drama and bio – so do you have Turner and Miss Mannion, then?”

“Yeah, I think so. They were the two in the carpark earlier, right? I didn’t actually have drama or bio today, so I’ve not met them yet.”

“They’re my two favourite teachers.” Trixie gushes, reaching forward and covering Delia’s hand with her own. “I’ve had Miss Mannion for music since Year 10 and she’s _so_ lovely. She’s easily the nicest teacher in the school. And Doctor Turner always teaches the A-level bio class. He’s like a _doctor_ -doctor. Like, not a PhD, an actual medical doctor. He used to work in a hospital, but then he decided to become a military doctor. But, then there was an accident and he got injured, so he had to come home. I think, anyway. He’s a bit like my dad, he doesn’t really talk about his discharge. But, anyway, then he went back to school and got his teaching degree; now he’s the best biology teacher ever and he said he’ll help me with my medicine application.”

Trixie talks very fast, and Delia has to try very hard to keep up, but she catches the last sentence.

“You want to be a doctor?” She asks, impressed.

“Yeah,” Trixie beams, her whole face lighting up, “My whole life.”

“You must be _so_ smart.”

“Not really. I just work hard. Patsy’s applying for medicine too – she’s the real smart one. Best GCSE results in our whole year, including the boys.” Trixie tilts her head towards Patsy whose face is almost as red as her hair at the sudden attention. Delia stares at her with wide eyes (seriously, how fucking blue _are_ they?) and Patsy’s heart speeds up so much she worries it might actually burst out of her chest.

“Actually? That’s amazing.” Delia says, her voice full of awe. Somehow, Patsy’s face gets even warmer.

“Not really.” She says, far too quickly.

“Aw, listen to her. All modest as if she didn’t get all eights and nines.” Trixie rolls her eyes playfully, but throws Patsy her signature ‘stop being a fucking liability’ look when no one else is looking.

Patsy isn’t sure what Trixie is up to, or why, but she _is_ sure she’s going to fucking kill her for it.

Thankfully, Valerie appears at their table with a tray full of milkshakes before Trixie can say anything else to embarrass Patsy.

“Chocolate milkshakes for you three,” Valerie says, placing the drinks onto the table, “and a vanilla, for the weirdo.”

“I am not a weirdo!” Patsy cries defensively. “It is actually just the nicest flavour.”

“Yeah, if you don’t have taste buds.” Trixie quips, her top lip curled in disgust. Patsy sticks her tongue out.

“Give me a shout if yous need anything else.” Val says as she leaves their table and makes her way back behind the counter.

“What about you, Barbara?” Delia asks a little tentatively, taking a sip of her milkshake. “Like, what do you want to do when you leave school?”

“Oh, I want to be a midwife.” Barbara replies enthusiastically without even missing a beat. “I always wanted to be a nurse, just like my mum was, but, after Margaret had Lottie, I decided I really wanted to be a midwife.” She notices Delia’s confused expression. “Oh, sorry – Margaret’s my sister and Lottie’s my niece.”

“Oh, right. I used to want to be a nurse as well, actually, when I was little.”

“No way, really?”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m taking bio – although I’m not actually sure I’m smart enough now. I’m a bit, like, dyslexic, and it takes me ages to pick stuff up after-” Delia cuts herself off abruptly and rearranges her sentence. “-Well, um, it just takes me a while.”

Patsy and Trixie exchange a look. Barbara, as oblivious as usual, ploughs on.

“Oh, don’t be daft. And, anyway, Doctor Turner is supposed to be really good for giving you extra help if you need it. He does supported study and stuff all through the year. So, what kind of nurse do you want to be? Before I decided I wanted to be a midwife, I-”

“Babs, no offence, but if you and Delia are talking about nurse stuff, I’m going to go for a cigarette. I’m absolutely gasping.” Patsy says, pushing her seat back and standing up. “Unless you want one as well, Delia?”

Even asking the brunette an innocent question makes the butterflies in her stomach start flapping around violently.

_Really? This is pathetic. Get a fucking grip._

“Oh, no, not for me.” Delia says, crinkling her nose. “Thank you for the offer, but I’m just really not a fan of it. At all.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I completely understand – it’s an awful habit and I wish I’d never started.” Patsy admits, then turns her attention to Trixie. “Are you coming, Trix?”

“Yes, please – can I nick a cigarette, though? I’ve left mine at home again.” Trixie asks a little guiltily, standing up.

“I’m going to start charging you every time you steal one of my bloody cigarettes.” Patsy rolls her eyes as Trixie pouts at her. “Fine, but I’ve only got Marlboros.”

The blonde pulls a face.

“Well, beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.” She sighs, linking her arm through Patsy’s and leading her towards the door. Patsy tries very hard not to register the little feeling of dejection forming in the pit of her stomach at the thought of not being around Delia, even for a few minutes.

_Pull yourself together, Mount. You’re being ridiculous_

She still feels bad as door shuts behind her.

* * *

Patsy exhales slowly, leaning against the side wall of the café, the cigarette smoke immediately calming her down.

“I still don’t see how you can think Marlboros are better than Sobranies.” Trixie says beside her, twirling the cigarette between her fingers.

“Don’t steal my cigs and then complain about them.” Patsy retorts, rubbing her temple.

“I’m just _saying_.”

They smoke in silence for a few moments.

“So, what do you think of Delia?” Trixie asks suddenly.

_Jesus H Christ._

“Did you just come out here for a gossip?” Patsy retaliates, fighting to keep her voice neutral.

“No, although it _is_ an added bonus of smoking.” Trixie jokes, turning her head so she can look directly at Patsy. “No, but seriously – what do you think of her?”

“She seems nice.” Patsy says weakly. “Maybe a bit…quiet, I don’t know.”

“I don’t think she is actually quiet – I think she’s just nervous ‘cause it’s her first day. And she probably can’t get a word in edgeways with the amount Barbara talks.”

The two girls giggle good-naturedly. Patsy hopes that’s the end of the matter.

“It’s just – I’m only asking because I thought maybe you didn’t like her.”

_For fuck’s sake._

“Why would you think that?” Patsy asks casually, but her heart is thumping against her ribcage.

“You’ve just been quite quiet all day, that’s all.”

To anyone else, it would sound like an innocent observation. Patsy knows Trixie well enough to know that what she’s saying is anything but innocent.

“I told you earlier – I’m just shattered because it’s the first day back.” Patsy says, but she knows Trixie won’t be convinced. She hurriedly taking another drag of her cigarette so she doesn’t have to say anything else.

“If you say so.” Trixie answers sceptically. Patsy frowns at her.

“What are you up to?” The redhead asks against her better judgement. She still hasn’t quite worked it out, but she knows she isn’t going to like the answer.

Trixie paints the perfect expression of surprise on her face. Patsy almost wants to applaud her acting skills.

“I’m not up to anything.” Trixie says, practically a picture of innocence. “I’m just…worried about you.”

“Bullshit. I know you, and I know you’re up to something.”

“I’m offended you have such a low opinion of me, Patience.” Trixie says, mock-scandalised, and Patsy realises she isn’t getting an answer. “Now, come on. Let’s go and rescue poor Delia’s eardrums from Barbara.”

Trixie drops what’s left of her cigarette on the ground and stubs it out with her shoe – a habit Patsy would have shouted at her for if she wasn’t feeling so dumbfounded. The blonde pushes herself off of the wall and smooths down her skirt.

“Well? Are you coming?” She asks, her hands on her hips. Patsy swallows and prays her voice sounds normal.

“Um, I’m going to finish this first.” She holds up her cigarette. “I’ll see you in a couple of minutes.”

Patsy watches Trixie disappear around the corner. Her half-finished cigarette smoulders in the gravel.

Marlboro or not, Trixie always finishes her cigarettes.

When she’s not just using them as an excuse to find something out, that is.

Patsy sighs, covering her face with her free hand.

 _Trixie knows_.

She must. She’s shrewder than she lets on, and she can read Patsy like a _fucking_ book.

Patsy’s head falls backwards against the uneven brick wall. She takes another long drag of her cigarette, hoping it will help to relax her. It doesn’t.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trixie knows because of COURSE she does! i was really hoping to get this chapter posted earlier in the week, but it just did not want to be written which is why it's taken so long. i'm a bit worried about it being boring because there's so many introductions, but i honestly just can't look at it anymore so please just have it. something actually exciting will (hopefully) be happening next chapter though!
> 
> hope you enjoyed reading it and that you're still all staying safe and healthy! <3
> 
> \- b x


	3. all's fair in love and (cheap) vodka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i know it's been literally FOREVER, but lockdown absolutely wrecked my productivity and then online uni took over my life and i just didn't have time to sit down and write anything substantial. also, this chapter just DID NOT want to be written - i must've rewritten some of this dialogue about a million times and i still don't think i'm 100% happy with some of it ://
> 
> just as a forewarning, there is quite a lot of underage drinking from most of the characters in this chapter. 
> 
> it is quite long, but honestly i just couldn't find a nice place to split it, so i decided just to keep it all as one chapter. consider it an apology for not updating for 8 MONTHS.
> 
> hope you all enjoy and also that everyone had/is having a nice holiday season :D
> 
> \- b x
> 
> (ps - my twitter user is @bcingalive if anyone fancies following and listening to my random musings abt this au)

Mass is a regular occurrence at St Raymond Nonnatus Secondary School. It’s one of the few times the boys’ and girls’ schools come together, crammed into the church at the bottom of the hill, all talking over each other, preemptively complaining about the 10 minute uphill walk back to the school.

Patsy has never been particularly religious, but she likes mass. Likes sitting near the back beside Trixie and trying (and failing) not to laugh when she whispers borderline blasphemous things about how fit the boys in the pew across from them are. Likes waving at Barbara a few rows in front of them. Likes trying not to fall asleep when the sermon is too long and she hasn’t slept properly the night before.

It’s a routine, and Patsy likes routine. Likes the peacefulness of the church, even when it’s full of noisy teenagers. Likes how she always feels a little bit lighter once it’s over.

Today, the routine is different. She sits at the front of the church, Trixie beside her. Barbara is in the pew behind them, along with the other prefects from the girls’ school. That, and the folded piece of paper with a reading on it in her blazer pocket, is almost enough to throw her off-kilter.

But enough things are the same that she, surprisingly, feels herself settle into the new routine being depute head girl has provided her. Trixie is still beside her, craning her neck to try and find Christopher amongst the boys. Barbara is still making eyes at Tom across the aisle. And, instead of locating Barbara in front of her, Patsy finds herself waving at Delia as the younger girl slips in the side door and makes her way to her registration class’ designated pew.

Her hair is in two french plaits today. On most people, it would look childish - but it suits Delia remarkably well.

“Who are you waving at?” Trixie asks, very unsubtly texting underneath her blazer. Patsy jumps, snapped out of her thoughts.

“Delia. She’s just come in.”

Patsy looks over her shoulder again, but Delia has already disappeared into the crowd of students.

“Trixie, get off your phone in church!” Barbara hisses, leaning over Trixie’s shoulder.

“I’m not on my phone, I’m just texting Christopher.”

“Which is being on your phone!”

“To be fair, Trixie, it can be considered a little bit disrespectful.” Lucille, the 6B prefect, offers from beside Barbara.

“No use arguing, Trix. You’ll never win against the God Squad.” Patsy teases. Barbara rolls her eyes and leans back against the back of the pew. Lucille smiles good-naturedly. Trixie sighs, but tucks her phone into her inside pocket.

“Alright, fine, it’s away. Everybody calm down. Just don’t blame me when I’m out partying tomorrow night and you’re all not.”

“Wait, who’s having a party?” Barbara asks, leaning forward again so quickly she almost head-butts Patsy.

“Well, I’m afraid I wouldn’t know since you just made me put my phone away.” Trixie says with mock-innocence. Barbara huffs, pouting her bottom lip.

“Don’t be like that, Trix”

“Like what?”

“ _Trixie!_ ”

“It’s Christopher.” Trixie says, finally giving in, practically bouncing in her seat. “I mean, it’s not, like, a _party_ party, we’re not in year seven, but his parents are out so he’s got an empty and-“

“And you want a snog?” Patsy interrupts dryly. Barbara snorts with laughter. Trixie blushes under her make up.

“Oh, so when _I’m_ on my phone in mass that’s ‘disrespectful’ but when _she’s_ talking about snogging that’s fine?”

Barbara opens her mouth to respond but she’s interrupted by Miss Mannion playing the first few chords to the opening hymn on the piano.

“It’s fine if she’s bullying you.” She whispers as they stand up for the hymn.

Trixie scowls and hands a smirking Patsy a hymn book.

“You will come though, won’t you?” Trixie asks under her breath halfway through the hymn.

“Where?” Patsy whispers back, using her hymn book to hide her mouth.

“To _Christopher’s_ , Patsy.”

“I just don’t know if it’s my kind of thing, Trix.”

“ _Patsy_. Come on. It’ll be fun.” Trixie shifts closer to the redhead and lowers her voice even further. “Delia’s invited.”

“And?” Patsy says after a slightly too-long pause.

Trixie looks up at the redhead. Patsy does everything she can to avoid making eye contact with her.

“I’m just saying.” Trixie shrugs, turning her eyes back to the front as the hymn ends.

Patsy looks over her shoulder as she sits back down. She knows there’s no way she’ll find Delia in the crowd of students, but she just can’t seem to shake the odd feeling in her chest when the vicar starts talking and she has to turn around.

_Oh, for Christ’s sake._

“Fine.” She whispers. “I’ll go.”

She pretends not to see Trixie’s poorly-disguised smirk out the corner of her eye.

* * *

Barbara squeezes into the pew beside Trixie after the mass finishes.

“So? Christopher? This means, like, he obviously wants to pull you, right?”

“Babs, he is not having a _whole empty_ just so he can get a snog from Trixie,” Patsy says, taking her phone from her blazer pocket, “And, quite frankly, I don’t think he would even need to throw any sort of party at all - ow!”

Trixie punches Patsy’s shoulder.

“You deserved that one.”

“I can’t feel my bloody arm!” Patsy complains, rubbing the offending injury. Trixie rolls her eyes, examining a chip in her nail polish. Patsy turns her attention to her phone, her free hand fidgeting with her necklace.

“Hello? Phone? Barbara, shout at her.” Trixie pouts, linking her arm through Barbara’s.

“I’m texting Delia,” Patsy says, before Barbara can even open her mouth, “I’m seeing if she wants a lift back to school.”

“Oh, that’s a lovely idea, Patsy.” Barbara says eagerly, fidgeting with the charms on Trixie’s bracelet.

Trixie doesn’t say anything.

“Ladies, are we _going_ back to school or are we just sitting here loitering?” Ms Crane asks, suddenly in front of them.

“Oh, I’ve got my car,” Patsy says, reaching into her other pocket for her car keys, “And Sister Julienne makes us wait until everyone else has gone before we leave.”

“I also think Sister Julienne says you shouldn’t be taking passengers in your car if you’re driving during school time.” Ms Crane looks very pointedly at Barbara and Trixie.

“Miss, if I have to walk up that hill today I’m literally going to _cry_ -“

“We’ll be careful, Ms Crane, honestly, and Patsy is a really good driver, promise-“

“I’ve already checked with Sister Julienne and she said she was okay with it, she knows I bring my car to school with me anyway-“

“We drove about all summer and we didn’t crash _once_ -“

“I took Trixie back up to school after the end of term mass last year and it was all fine-“

“And we definitely _didn’t_ go for coffee on the way back. Honestly.”

Ms Crane looks at the three girls with a raised eyebrow.

“Fine.” She says, relenting. “Drive _carefully_.” She gives Patsy a stern look, then turns her attention to someone in front of her and smiles.

“Good morning, Miss Busby. How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks, Miss. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. Although, Miss Mount here is trying to give me a heart attack by insisting on driving herself back to school, and it isn’t even 10 o’clock in the morning.”

Ms Crane rolls her eyes and walks away. Delia grins, her eyes twinkling as they find Patsy, who is hiding her flushed face under her hands

“I’m literally _good_ at driving!” She insists. “People who pass third time are _statistically proven_ to be better drivers!”

“Didn’t you hit a kerb on the way to school this morning-“

“Nobody said you were _bad-“_

 _“_ You two were literally just telling Crane why she should let me drive to school, and _now_ you want to say I’m shit-“

 _“_ I thought you were alright, actually.” Delia says, loud enough to be heard over Trixie and Barbara. “I mean, I’ve only been in your car once, but - well, you’re definitely better than most of my family. They’re all _shit_ at driving, I think it must be genetic or something. My cousin, Gwendolyn, right, she passed a few months ago - I have never been more scared in my _life_ than the first time I was in her car. And then she crashed it a week later, so…”

Delia tails off, looking a little uncertain, like she’s worried she’s said too much, but then Barbara is snorting and Trixie is giggling and Patsy is beaming and looking at her very intently, like she’s actually interested in what she has to say.

“Well, I _still_ feel like that when I’m Patsy’s car and she’s driven me around loads.” Trixie quips as she pulls Barbara further up the pew to make room for Delia. “Although, I have to hand it to her, she hasn’t crashed yet.”

Patsy rolls her eyes, and smiles guiltily at Delia, who beams at her, all dimples and teeth. Patsy has to look away before her lungs stop working.

She ignores Trixie’s quizzical look.

(Or tries to.)

“You’re hair is so nice, Delia!” Barbara says, seemingly oblivious to the practically palpable tension between the brunette and Patsy. “It’s so straight in the back, did you do it yourself? I can _never_ get mine like that.”

“Oh, my Auntie Blod did them for me.” Delia explains a little distractedly, dragging her eyes away from the back of Patsy’s head to look at Barbara instead. “I can do French plaits on other people, but I’m rubbish at them on myself. They always end up loose at the bottom and I can _never_ get the parting straight.”

“Are you coming to Christopher’s tomorrow night, Delia?” Trixie asks, turning towards the brunette, bored of her visual interrogation of Patsy.

“Oh, I didn’t-I’m invited?”

“Of course you are, sweetie. Christopher asked me to say to people since he doesn’t really know anyone yet.”

“Oh, so - are you going to...?” Delia asks, leaning forward so she can see Trixie better.

Trixie exhales theatrically.

“I’m going to try my bloody hardest, but - he’s so weird to talk to, like, he’s just - ugh, I can’t even explain it! But he’s _so_ fit. And I’m _hot_ , you know?”

“Seriously?”

“Oh, no, no, you are hot. Definitely.” Delia says enthusiastically.

“Don’t encourage her, that is the last thing she needs!” Barbara teases, and then her and Delia are dissolving into a joint fit of giggles.

Trixie rolls her eyes. Patsy tries her hardest not to look upset.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Trixie says loudly, “I just think we would look so good together _but_ he’s just a bit...like, boring. Although, to be fair, I _will_ still snog him if I get the chance. Obviously.

“Yeah, of course. Hey, I could be, like, your wing-woman!”

“Oh my God, yes please! Barbara is always too busy with Tom to pay _any_ attention to me, and Patsy over here is useless, so-"

“Maybe we should go.” Patsy interrupts, standing up abruptly. “We don’t want to be late for second period.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, Patsy, it’s only RE-“

“Julienne will go mental if we’re late. And you’re head girl, Trixie. You’ve got an example to set. Move.”

Trixie just stares at Patsy for a few seconds; then she blinks and shakes her head, her entire expression changing in half a second.

“You’re right.” She says with false brightness. “We should get going. Come on. I call shotgun.”

* * *

Christopher’s car is parked behind Patsy’s - although, she wouldn’t have known it was his car if he and Tom hadn’t been standing beside it.

Which is fine.

Obviously.

Except Barbara immediately goes to Tom, who wraps his arm around her shoulders, and Trixie has gone that (quite frankly, disgusting) gooey, doe-eyed way she goes around Christopher.

Which leaves her with Delia.

Which is _fine._

Except it’s _not_ because she’s having some very intense, very hard to comprehend feelings over the brunette that are getting harder and harder to suppress, and Trixie is already probably onto her, and-

_Why does no one else ever end up in these situations?_

“We were just talking about you, actually.” Trixie says to Christopher, her hands in the pockets of her blazer. “Well, about yours on Saturday, actually.”

“Oh, yeah? You’re all coming then?” Christopher asks, although he doesn’t stop looking at Trixie.

He might be boring, but it is sort of sweet how into Trixie Christopher seems already. Although, it isn’t really a surprise - Trixie does tend to have that effect on boys.

“Is there somewhere I can leave my car overnight and I’ll come and get it on Sunday morning?”

Christopher finally tears his eyes away from Trixie.

“Yeah, my parents have taken their car so there’s space in the driveway.” He says nonchalantly. “You can just park it there if you want.”

“Okay, great. But, just so you know, if my car gets fucked up, you’re paying for the damages.”

Christopher chuckles and holds his hands in the air.

“Of course. Understood.”

She was a little bit unsure about Christopher before, but maybe he is good enough for Trixie after all.

“Right, I hate to break this up, but if we’re late Julienne is going to lose her shit and I just really can’t be bothered with that, so - in the car please, ladies.”

Trixie brushes past Christopher on her way to the passenger side of Patsy’s car.

“I’ll see you on Saturday night?”

“Yes - I’m looking forward to it.”

Patsy raises an eyebrow at the grinning blonde as she ducks into the passenger seat.

“Are you coming?” Patsy says to Delia as she opens the driver’s door.

“Oh, really? I-well, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not. I’m not going to make you walk all the way up that hill - trust me, it’s Hell.”

Delia giggles. Patsy tries to pretend the noise doesn’t make her chest physically ache.

“Thanks.” Delia says, climbing into the back seat beside Barbara and closing the door behind her.

Patsy takes a deep breath, then opens the driver’s door and gets into the car.

* * *

“I can hear your bag clinking from here.” Patsy says disapprovingly through the open car window as she picks Trixie up from work. Trixie rolls her eyes as she walks round the front of the car and into the passenger seat.

“I’ve only got a bottle of Malibu and a bottle of pink gin.” She explains, placing the offending backpack at her feet. “Oh, and a bottle of wine, but that’s for pres.”

“ _Only_.”

“Oh my God, shut up. So, Christopher said to arrive at eight, which really means, like, half eight for us, or nine at the _very_ latest-but we can’t be any later than that because then I’ll definitely miss my snogging window-“

“-Your - Trix, what are you even talking about-“

“-Which means we’ve got, like, what, three hours to get ready, maybe a little bit less if we want to get nice pictures and - oh my God, have you not started the car yet? Patsy, time is ticking. Do you not _want_ me to snog Christopher?"

“It’s - you’re the one that’s been talking for the past-“

“ _Drive_!”

* * *

Trixie drinks her wine straight from the bottle whilst simultaneously vetoing every single outfit Patsy tries on.

Her flannel shirt and jeans (which, personally, Patsy thinks is quite nice, especially when she ties the shirt in a knot at the front) is greeted with an eye-roll and an “I’m not even entertaining that - it’s a _party_ , Patsy.”

Her green dress gets the same treatment; Trixie seems marginally more pleased with her white crop top and checked trousers combination, but still doesn’t give it her seal of approval.

“Trix, I’m literally sweating.” Patsy whines after what feels like a hundred outfits. “Can you just tell me what to wear instead of torturing me, please? I’m literally losing the will to live.”

Trixie rolls her eyes and sets her bottle of wine down on Patsy’s bedside table.

“ _Fine_. Sit down.”

Patsy sighs, sitting down on her bed as Trixie goes through her wardrobe.

“No - cute but no - oh, maybe-” Trixie throws the offending clothes onto Patsy’s bed.

“I hope you’re planning on cleaning this up after-“

“Patsy Mount, why didn’t you tell me you owned this?” Trixie asks, mock-scandalised, turning to face Patsy. “You _have_ to wear this, you’ll look amazing!”

Patsy blushes under her make up.

“Trix, it’s literally see-through!”

“You’re the one who bought it!”

“In my defence, it looked _much_ different on the website-“

“Here-“ Trixie turns and grabs something else from the wardrobe, tossing it in Patsy’s general direction “-You can wear this under it and then it won’t be see-through anymore.”

Patsy stills looks a little unsure. Trixie puts her hands on her hips.

“ _Patsy -_ you will look so fit. Do you really think I’d get you to wear something that wouldn’t make you look fit?”

Patsy doesn’t say anything but raises a doubtful eyebrow. Trixie sighs.

“Just fucking try it on, will you?”

Patsy rolls her eyes but reluctantly obliges. She looks at herself in her wall mirror.

Trixie is right, much to her chagrin.

* * *

Christopher’s house is a three minute drive away from Patsy’s.

(She does suggest driving, but Trixie is wearing what might be the world’s skimpiest dress and point-blank refuses to spend more than 30 consecutive seconds outside because she will ‘ _literally freeze to death, Patsy.’)_

They’ve barely stepped in the front door before Barbara is barrelling towards them, stumbling over her own feet like a baby dear.

“Patsy! Trixie!” She cries, flinging her arms around Patsy’s neck.

“Hello, you.” Patsy laughs, somehow managing to intercept the nearly-finished bottle of Echo Falls from Barbara’s grasp and hand it to Trixie.

“Have you drunk all of this?” Trixie asks, looking at the wine bottle in her hand, sounding mildly impressed.

“I definitely spilled some of it but I don’t really remember where.” Barbara giggles. Patsy slides her arm around the younger girl’s waist to try and keep her upright.

“Oh my God - Barbara Gilbert, are you drunk?”

“ _No_...” Barbara says, in a way that shows she _definitely_ is. Trixie gasps and cups Barbara’s face in her hands.

“I am so proud of you right now, babe.”

Barbara snorts with laugher.

“Trixie!”

The three girls look up at the sound of Christopher’s voice from the top of the stairs. Trixie’s whole face lights up and she hands Barbara’s bottle of wine back to her.

“Hi, how are you?’ She asks as Christopher reaches them, flicking her hair away from her face subconsciously.

“I’m good, yeah. You look lovely, by the way.”

Trixie beams.

“Thank you. You look very nice too.”

Maybe it’s the entire bottle of wine she drank whilst getting ready, but Trixie’s flirting skills really should be applauded.

“I’ve parked my car behind yours, Christopher, if that’s alright?” Patsy asks, getting a Look with a capital L from Trixie. “I couldn’t get in beside it because Tom’s was already there.”

She does feel a little bit guilty about interrupting them, but Trixie tossing her hair and running her hand along Christopher’s arm is getting, quite frankly, sickening.

And, more importantly, if someone hit her car, there _will_ be consequences.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, I don’t need it tomorrow so you can just come and get it whenever.” Christopher answers quickly, then turns his attention straight back to Trixie. “Do you want a drink?”

“We’ve got stuff with us, but some cups would be great?”

“Yeah, there’s cups in the kitchen, I’ll take you. You can put your bag in the cupboard as well, if you want.”

Trixie smiles so deeply her dimples appear.

“Perfect.” She turns to Barbara and Patsy, biting her lip. Patsy is actually quite impressed she’s managed to remember they exist. “Are you two coming?”

* * *

Christopher guides Trixie into the kitchen with a hand on the small of her back. Patsy and Barbara follow - although Barbara still can’t seem to walk in a straight line.

By the time Patsy has got Barbara into a chair at the island (because, really, she’s a danger to herself and everyone else around her right now), Trixie is already mixing drinks, Christopher leaning on the counter beside her.

“Patsy-“ Trixie looks up a the redhead, clicking her fingers “-Have you still got that vodka in your bag?”

Patsy raises her eyebrows, but crosses to Trixie, handing her the bottle and passing Christopher her bag to put in the coat cupboard.

“ _There_ you are, Barbara, I’ve been - oh. Hello.”

Delia appears from the living room, plastic cup in her hand. She’s wearing a low-cut summer dress and her hair is loose around her shoulders, wavy from yesterday’s plaits, framing her face like some kind of brunette halo, and, God, she’s literally radiant with that nervous smile on her face, and-

_Jesus Christ - use your words, Mount._

“Hi.”

_Good one._

“Delia!” Trixie cries, gesturing to the brunette to come and join them properly. “You came!”

“I did! I couldn’t turn down such a nice invitation.” Delia makes her way over to island, squeezing in between Patsy and Trixie.

“Oh my God, your nose!” Trixie reaches up and touches the tip of her own nose. “I didn’t realise you had it pierced, it looks amazing.”

Delia beams. Now she’s standing next to her, Patsy finally notices the stud in the side of her nose and the hoop through her septum. It somehow makes her look even prettier than she already is and Patsy thinks she might actually die on the spot.

“Thank you! I’ve got a few in my ears as well.” Delia pulls her hair back to show off her multiple ear piercings. “I thought the nuns might go mental if they saw them though, so I took them all out for school. Although not my septum, I only got that done at the start of summer so it’s not, like, healed yet, so I can’t take it out, I have to flip it up instead.”

“Flip it? Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Not really. Here, look.” Delia reaches up and twists the hoop in her nose until it’s hidden. “See? It feels a bit weird at first, but you get used to it - and my mum doesn’t actually know about this one yet, so I’ve had a lot of practice hiding it.”

Delia pulls a guilty face. Trixie giggles; Patsy somehow manages some general noises of approval and hopes she sounds at least a little bit normal.

“Do you want another drink, Delia?” Trixie asks, pouring vodka into the plastic cups in front of her.

“Oh, well, I was actually just looking for Barbara ‘cause I lost her, but, if you don’t mind-“

“Of course not, sweetie! I’ll even treat you to one of my specialty cocktails.” Trixie winks and takes another plastic cup from the stack beside her.

“Hey, sweetheart, where did you go?” Tom comes in from the back door, crossing the room to give Barbara a quick kiss. “I just was talking to Alec and then I turned round and you had gone.”

“Honestly, Tom, I was just vibing.“

“Alec? Is Jenny here?” Trixie asks, reaching for the bottle of gin in front of her.

“Yeah, they’re both outside.” Tom says, inclining his head towards the back door.

“Who’s Jenny?” Delia asks Patsy quietly underneath Trixie and Tom’s conversation.

“Oh, of course, you won’t know her. She was head girl last year - she’s left now, obviously. She’s lovely. Smart too - she’s going to do law at Oxford. Her and Trixie are quite good friends.”

“I see. Thanks.”

Patsy is extremely grateful when Trixie hands her a cup and she has something to distract her from the dimples in Delia’s cheeks.

“Trix, what the fuck is this?” She says, pulling a face as she hesitantly sniffs the liquid in the cup.

“I don’t know, I just poured a bit of everything we had into the cup and mixed it with lemonade. It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Patsy takes a sceptical sip from her cup and coughs almost immediately.

“Christ, how much alcohol is _in_ this?”

“Oh, come on, Patsy - even _Barbara’s_ already smashed. We need to catch up.”

“To be fair, Trixie, it does only take half a bottle of wine to get Babs smashed.” Patsy says, gesturing to the bottle behind Barbara on the counter. Trixie puts her free hand on her hip and frowns, holding up her cup.

“Shut up and drink it.”

Patsy rolls her eyes but relents, tapping the rim of her cup against Trixie’s. They both take a drink – Patsy screws her face up as she swallows, Trixie looks absolutely delighted with herself.

“This is _fucking_ dreadful.”

“You won’t be saying that in half an hour when you’re drunk, Patsy Mount.” Trixie says, taking another swig from her cup. “Right, I’m going to go and introduce Christopher to Jen. Are you coming?”

Patsy opens her mouth to answer Trixie, but stops herself. She glances down at Delia, who is starting to look a little bit out of place again.

“Um, actually, you go, I’ll just stay here. For now. I’ll see Jenny later on.”

The kitchen is dark, but Patsy is almost certain she sees Trixie wink at her as she ushers Christopher outside. Delia clears her throat softly, and Patsy turns to see the brunette facing her with that wonderful dimpled smile.

_Christ._

Delia holds her cup up hopefully; Patsy smiles backs and knocks their cups together.

_It’s fine, everything will be easier after a couple of drinks._

“Iechyd da!” Delia cries, tipping her head back and taking a gulp from her cup.

“Yah - _what_?” Patsy asks, laughing as Delia swallows and instantly cringes at the potency of the drink.

“It’s, like, Welsh for ‘cheers.’” Delia explains, giggling as she wipes her mouth. “God, this is disgusting.”

“I probably should have warned you about ‘Trixie’s Bar.’”

Delia giggles.

“’Trixie’s Bar?’”

“Her cocktails. She is actually quite good at making them – even if she does put four different types of alcohol in them.” Patsy lowers her voice for dramatic effect. “But don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Delia whispers back.

Patsy suddenly notices how close together they are standing - not that she’s complaining - but she can see the younger girl’s blown pupils and smudged eyeliner and realises she’s definitely (at the very least) approaching being drunk.

“How much have you had to drink?” Patsy asks. She doesn’t want to ruin the moment (especially since it’s the most normal conversation they’ve had since they met) but she’s too used to Trixie (and Barbara, now that she’s decided she actually likes wine) taking it a bit too far not to ask.

“Not that much.” Delia answers, but her words are slurred in a way that makes Patsy raise a dubious eyebrow.

“Are you sure about that?"

Delia grins.

“Okay, fine, I’ve had a few.” She admits. “ _And_ this is, like, _really_ strong.”

She holds her cup to emphasise her point, shuffling somehow even closer to Patsy in the process. Patsy’s breath hitches in her throat as their hands brush against each other.

There’s the sound of glass smashing and lots of shouting from the living room; Patsy feels both disappointed and relieved when Delia steps back and turns her attention to that instead.

“That’ll be Valerie, bet you. She’s _hammered_ , by the way. I was talking to her earlier.” Delia explains, taking another swig from her cup.

“Sounds like her, honestly.” Patsy rolls her eyes.

“I’m nosy, let’s go and find out what happened.”

There’s a mischievous twinkle in Delia’s eye and Patsy thinks she would probably move a mountain if she asked her to.

“What’s your name? Trixie?” Patsy teases, trying to sound nonchalant even though her stomach is doing cartwheels.

Delia rolls her eyes and takes half a step towards Patsy, running her fingers down the redhead’s forearm and then _\- oh, fucking Hell_ \- taking her hand.

“Don’t be boring.” She pouts, squeezing Patsy’s hand softly. “Come on, Pats.”

_Pats._

Delia pulls gently on Patsy’s arm; Patsy follows her without a moment of hesitation, their hands still linked.

* * *

Valerie, it turns out, had tripped over thin air after one too many drinks and fallen over, bringing several photo frames down with her.

Patsy helps to pick the shards of glass out of the carpet whilst Lucille (who is, thankfully, completely sober) takes the photo frames and hides them. Delia just laughs - that loud, vibrant laugh that Patsy is slowly falling more and more in love with the more she hears it.

After a quick examination from Lucille and Patsy, it turns out the only thing Valerie has hurt is her pride.

(And, remarkably, she managed to not spill a single drop of her drink. Lucille confiscates the rest of it anyway - just in case.)

The music in the living room is overly loud, pulsating from an unidentified speaker somewhere in the room and it’s very dark, although there’s multi-coloured lights strung up around the walls. Delia’s hair looks very soft and shiny under the dim light from them. It’s falling over her flushed face, and she knocks her fringe askew as she reaches up to run her fingers through it.

_Really, it’s unfair how she still manages to look this pretty._

“Come here, your hair’s all over the place.” Patsy has to shout to be heard over the music. She reaches out to comb her fingers through Delia’s hair before she can change her mind. 

It feels as soft as she thought it would.

“There. Sorted.” She lets her hand graze down the brunette’s face once she’s finished fixing her fringe. “I like your hair like that.”

“What?” Delia shouts back, looking confused as she struggles to hear Patsy over the music.

Patsy takes a step forward and closes the distance between them - not that there was much to begin with - so she can speak directly into Delia’s ear.

“I said I really like your hair like that.”

“It’s just down.” Delia replies coyly, tucking the rest of her hair behind her ears.

“It really suits you.”

“Thanks.” Delia smiles, and Patsy is convinced it’s bright enough to light up the entire world.

And her head is starting to buzz a little bit from her nearly-finished drink, and Delia is standing so close to her that she can feel the ends of her hair tickling her arm, and her lipgloss has glitter in it, and what if she just leant down and-

“Oh, we should take a picture!” Delia cries suddenly, snapping Patsy out of her thoughts. She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her phone. She turns, her shoulder bumping against Patsy’s.

“To be honest, I don’t really-“

“Oh, don’t silly! You know, memories and all that. And you look so lovely, it’d be such a shame if you left without any pictures.”

Patsy relents.

(Obviously.)

Delia holds her phone out in front of her and moves very close to Patsy. Patsy’s hand automatically reaches round to rest on Delia’s hip as she takes the picture.

“Oh my God, that’s _so_ nice, look!” Delia angles the phone so Patsy can see the screen, leaning her head against the redhead’s shoulder.

It _is_ a very nice picture, Patsy has to admit.

“Send me it?” She asks. Delia looks up at her.

“Yeah, of course.”

And Delia’s head is still resting on her shoulder, and her hand is still holding onto Delia’s hip, and two sets of blue eyes are looking into each other and, God, it would be so fucking easy to just tilt her head and-

“Patsy! _Patsy_!”

Trixie appears between them, breaking them apart, flourishing a bottle of Tequila Rose in the air. Patsy tries to give her a disapproving look, but she can’t help matching the blonde’s excited grin.

“Where on Earth did you get that?” She asks, taking the bottle from Trixie.

“It’s Jenny’s! Come on, she’s already in the kitchen looking for shot glasses. Delia-” Trixie turns to face the brunette. “-shots?”

“Oh, well-” Delia looks very pleased to have been asked. “-Why not?”

“ _Yes_ – you are girl after my own heart, Delia Busby!” Trixie cries gleefully, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Right, have either of you seen Barbara? I text her but she isn’t answering.”

“I honestly have no idea. Isn’t she still in the kitchen?”

“No, her and Tom left just before we did.” Delia offers.

“Probably snogging Tom somewhere.” Trixie rolls her eyes. The three girls laugh good-naturedly.

“Hi!” Barbara comes up behind Trixie suddenly, grabbing her waist so she can look over her shoulder.

“Barbara!”

“Where were you?” Patsy asks.

“Um. “ Barbara blushes. “Definitely _not_ in the spare bedroom with Tom.”

Patsy and Trixie both pull mock-scandalised faces.

“What? We were just kissing!” Barbara pouts. “And then I heard there was Tequila Rose, and, well, clearly that’s more important.”

“Babs, if I remember rightly, the last and only time you had Tequila Rose you threw it all up again about 20 minutes later.

Barbara rolls her eyes.

“That was just that one time. I’m _much_ better at holding my drink now."

Patsy raises a sceptical eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay, Babs. But I _will_ be saying ‘I told you so’ when we see this Tequila Rose again.”

Barbara pokes out her tongue at Patsy, who just rolls her eyes playfully in response.

“Whatever. Come on, Trixie.” Barbara grabs Trixie’s wrist and pulls her out of the living room, both of them practically buzzing with excitement.

“Come on.” Patsy says, turning to Delia. “It’ll be funny when Babs throws up, promise.”

It’s Patsy’s turn to hold out her hand towards Delia, and it’s Delia’s turn to take it and let Patsy lead her into the kitchen.

* * *

A lot of drinks later and (miraculously) no vomiting from Barbara, most of the party has migrated to the kitchen and the back garden. Patsy is having a cigarette with Trixie on the decking when Christopher appears beside the blonde and whispers something into her ear.

“Yeah, I’d love to. I’ll just be a minute whilst I finish this - pour me another drink?”

Trixie hands her cup to Christopher, who takes it eagerly and heads inside. Patsy raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Ok, so, don’t be weird, but Christopher’s just asked me if I want to go upstairs with him.” Trixie explains in a low voice so only Patsy can hear her. “And, like, obviously I do want to. So, yeah.”

“I’m _very_ pleased for you.” Patsy says, with only a tiny hint of sarcasm in her voice. “If you need me, just phone me, okay?”

Trixie grins excitedly and kisses Patsy’s cheek.

“I will. Okay, wish me luck.” She stubs out her cigarette and takes a deep breath, then disappears through the back door into the kitchen.

“Good luck.” Patsy calls after her. She takes a few minutes to finishes her own cigarette, then goes back into the kitchen herself.

She spots Delia sitting on the island almost immediately and crosses the room towards her.

“Hey.”

“Hiya.”

“Aren’t you with Babs?” Patsy asks, reaching for the vodka to pour herself another drink.

“She’s throwing up. Tom’s with her. You were right, after all.”

Patsy snorts with laughter and rolls her eyes knowingly.

“And I saw Trixie go off with Christopher a few minutes ago.” Delia says expectantly, waiting for Patsy to fill her in with the rest of the gossip.

“Yeah, he asked her to go upstairs with him.” Patsy explains as she finishes pouring her drink. “It’s all _very_ exciting.”

Delia gives a dimpled smile at Patsy’s sarcasm.

“Well, I suppose she’ll be pleased she’s getting her snog after all that.”

Patsy nods and lifts her cup to her lips.

“Yeah, she will be.”

“So, if Trixie’s off with Christopher, and Barbara’s got Tom - what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Oh, come on, Pats, you must get at least a little tiny bit jealous.”

“Trust me, I’m not jealous.”

Patsy downs the rest of her drink inelegantly, and slams the cup down on the table. Delia raises her eyebrows.

“Really?”

“ _Yes._ ” Patsy insists. “Trust me, Delia, Tom and Christopher are _not_ my type. At all.”

“At all?”

“ _At all_.”

Someone squeezes past them to get to the back door. Patsy loses her balance as she tries to move out of the way. She grabs onto Delia’s shoulders to steady herself and suddenly finds herself looking right into the brunette’s bright blue eyes.

_I’m too fucking drunk for this._

“You alright?” Delia asks as Patsy regains her balance. “That was a bit rude.”

Patsy just nods in response. Her palms are burning where they’re touching Delia’s bare shoulders and she’s pretty sure her heart rate has quadrupled in the past three seconds.

And, yet, she doesn’t pull away.

Instead, she moves her hands from Delia’s shoulders; one firmly planted on the counter to keep herself steady, the other skimming on Delia’s knee.

Her hand is still burning on Delia’s skin but, for some reason, she doesn’t mind.

She mentally checks to see it she can remember how much she’s actually had to drink.

She can.

Barely.

_Fuck Trixie and her cocktails._

Delia shuffles forward on the counter. Patsy, against her better judgement, slides her hand further up the brunette’s thigh until the tips of her fingers disappear under the hem of her dress. Delia’s breath hitches in her throat, and Patsy, almost involuntarily, takes a step forward, closing the remaining gap between them.

The smell of Delia’s perfume and the feeling of her smooth skin under her palm is making Patsy dizzy. She knows what’s coming, she’s known for pretty much the entire night, but it still takes her by surprise when Delia surges upwards and presses her lips to Patsy’s, winding her arms around the taller girl’s neck.

Delia’s lips are slightly chapped and they taste like cheap alcohol and lipgloss.

Patsy can’t get enough.

She pushes her tongue into Delia’s mouth. Later, she will blame it on the alcohol, but (maybe, actually) she just wants an excuse to be even closer to this girl who’s been making her feel like fireworks are going off in her head for the past three days.

Delia makes a soft noise from the back of her throat and pushes her own tongue against the redhead’s.

Patsy’s brain is still a little foggy, but she suddenly realises that she’s snogging someone in a kitchen at a party full of people she’s known for years.

And not just anyone.

Delia.

A girl.

Her blood turns cold.

_Fuck._

And maybe it’s that realisation (or, more likely, it’s the unidentified wolf-whistle that comes from behind them) that makes her pull away.


	4. it’s me, trixie! i’m the wee lesbian!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chap dedicated to noah, em, & frank - thank you for putting up with me whinging and greeting about dialogue at like 2am (or later) love u all x
> 
> chap title is a derry girls reference! <3
> 
> (i am gonna put a cw for emetophobiacs on this chapter - i don’t think it’s anything too bad and it’s fairly brief, but i just don’t want anyone to be surprised x)

Her chest heaves as she pulls away from Delia. Her blood is running cold in her veins, but she feels boiling hot. Her hand is still burning on Delia’s thigh - except now it’s agonising, peeling the skin away from her fingers, forming blisters on her palm-

She pulls her hands away, creates distance between her and Delia, pushes off of the counter so quickly she nearly topples over.

“Patsy. Patsy, wait-“ Delia drops down from the counter but doesn’t try to close the gap between them. “-It’s-I’m so sorry, I just-“

The rest of Delia’s words are drowned out by a loud droning in Patsy’s ears. She’s vaguely aware of other people’s voices, but she can’t make out what they’re saying. Her chest is getting increasingly tighter and the constant low hum of noise in the room is making her head throb.

_Shit._

She isn’t doing this. She is _not_ going to have a panic attack in front of almost the entirety of the Nonnatus sixth form.

She scans the room for something, anything, to focus on, to ground herself with, to ease the pressure in her chest, to stop the ringing in her ears-

_Shit shit shit._

Barbara is standing in the doorway gaping at her with wide eyes. Patsy doesn’t need to ask to know she saw everything.

And so she runs.

Well, she doesn’t exactly _run_ because there’s far too many people crammed into the kitchen and she’s had too much to drink to have the coordination to _actually_ run, but she does somehow manage to weave her way through the many people between her and the door, ignoring Delia’s desperate pleas for her to stay.

Barbara manages to grab her as she tries to squeeze through the doorway.

“Patsy, wait, please.”

Patsy pauses, her gaze darting down to Barbara’s fingers around her wrist and then back up to meet Barbara’s wide, pleading eyes.

She feels like she’s going to be sick.

She wrenches her arm from Barbara’s grasp and pushes past her into the hall.

The hall is quieter, mostly groups of people who getting ready to leave shrugging on coats and finishing drinks. She dodges past them and out of the front door.

The night air is cool, almost calming as she steps outside. She has a brand new panic when she tries to locate her phone.She’s momentarily terrified she’s left it in the kitchen during the chaos, but she finds it in her back pocket after a moment of searching, much to her relief.

(Although, to be fair, simultaneously panicking about two different things would be _very_ on brand for her.)

The thought of her back still in the cupboard under the stairs crosses her mind briefly, but the thought of going back in and having to face everyone - and Delia - again makes her feel nauseous.

_Delia._

She had kissed Delia.

She had kissed Delia, and Delia had kissed her back.

(Or maybe it was the other way round - if she’s being honest, it’s all a bit of a blur.)

But it had felt _good_.

Like, really really inexplicably good.

_Oh, God._

As if she’s in autopilot, her legs have carried her round the corner from Christopher’s house without her really realising. She sits on the kerb, burying her head in her knees, not even worried about dirtying her jeans. When she closes her eyes, she can still feel the pressure of Delia’s lips against her own, feel her soft skin under her fingertips, hear her humming contentedly as she deepened the kiss.

One singular tiny moment of weakness and now her biggest secret has been unearthed. 

She doesn’t do impulsivity and she _certainly_ doesn’t do recklessness but-

Well, apparently now she does.

Her phone buzzes rapidly in her pocket, and she reaches for it, desperate for any sort of distraction. There’s a string of messages from-

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

**Delia: _Patsy I’m so so so sorry_**

**Delia: _Are you alright?_**

**Delia: _Please reply_**

**Delia: _I’m really worried about you_**

**Delia: _Patsy please_**

**Delia: _It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t need to mean anything please please please just let me know ur alright_**

She shoves her phone back into her pocket as soon as she’s finished reading.She really _cannot_ be dealing with this tonight, not on top of everything else.

The sound of hurried footsteps makes her look up. Barbara is running towards her.

(Although, ‘run’ is perhaps a little bit of a strong word - the poor thing actually seems to be having quite a lot of trouble putting one foot in front of the other.)

There’s an odd mix of dread and relief in the pit of her stomach at the sight of the younger girl, but then Barbara is dropping down on the pavement beside her and throwing her arms around her, and some of her worry dissolves.

“Patsy, thank goodness, are you alright? I was so worried and you just left and Delia was crying and-“

“Delia was crying?” Patsy interrupts Barbara’s spiel, her hand habitually fidgeting with her necklace.

The brunette nods.

“Yes - but she seemed more worried _she’d_ upset _you_ and I didn’t know what to tell her because _obviously_ you were upset but, I mean, surely it wasn’t because of _that_ , because you _definitely_ seemed to be enjoying yourself and-“

“Where is she?”

“Who?”

“ _Delia_ , Babs.”

“Oh. I’m not sure. She was outside with Lucille, when I was trying to phone Trixie, I think, but I didn’t-“

“You _phoned Trixie_?”

“Well, I _tried_ to, she didn’t pick up, so I texted her instead - wait, why are you freaking out?”

Patsy has leapt to her feet and is pacing along the kerb.

“Jesus Christ-“

“Patsy, what was I supposed to do? You were freaking out and you’d just _snogged Delia_ and then you just ran away and I didn’t know what to do and Trixie _always_ knows what to do and she’s your _best friend_ and-“

“Trixie doesn’t _know_ , Babs.”

“She...oh.” A look of realisation washes over Barbara’s features as she processes Patsy’s words. “She doesn’t _know_?”

“No. We’ve never spoken about it, not-not _properly_ -“

“But she’s your best friend, I don’t get it.”

“I don’t-I don’t get it either, Babs, but I-“

Patsy buries her head in her hands against frustrated tears. Barbara hurriedly gets to her feet.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Patsy, it’s okay-” She gently pulls the redhead’s hands away from her face and takes them in own. “-It’s Trixie, you know her, she won’t mind, she’ll get it, she’ll understand-“

“I’ll understand what?”

And there’s Trixie walking towards them, her and Patsy’s bags over one shoulder, her heels in the opposite hand.

_Oh, God_.

And Patsy knows that Trixie knows, but she doesn’t _know_ \- not properly, not _officially_.

But now she’s going to be the last one to find out and it won’t even be through a private conversation - it will be from Patsy making an absolute arse of herself in front of _literally_ everyone they know.

Trixie’s going to go mental.

She’s going to absolutely lose her shit and Patsy will have lost her best friend and her good reputation in the space of about 15 minutes and it’s all her-

“Right, are either of you going to tell me what’s going on or am I going to have to figure it out for myself?” Trixie asks tersely, folding her arms across her chest against the chill of the night air.

Barbara and Patsy exchange a worried look as Trixie continues on.

“Barbara texts me, like 18 times saying that you’re freaking out and you’ve ran away, and then, by the time I get outside, you’ve _both_ disappeared but Delia is standing outside with Lucille absolutely breaking her heart crying, and she’s telling me she thinks _she’s_ upset you?What on _Earth_ has Delia got to do with this and why would she be-oh. _Oh_.”

Trixie meets Patsy’s eyes as everything clicks into place.

“What happened?” She asks, her voice suddenly quiet.

And Patsy knows that Trixie already knows the answer. She can - has always been able to - read her like a book. And she is so _fucking_ sick and tired of keeping this secret from Trixie, from Babs, from _everyone_.

And, so, she takes a deep breath and tells Trixie the truth.

“I, uh, I...I kissed her. Or, well, maybe she kissed me. I’m not sure. It doesn’t really matter either way.”

“And then you left?” Trixie asks, unfazed.

“Yeah.”

“Are you alright?"

“Yeah, I am.”

“Okay. Do you want a cigarette?”

“Yes, please.”

Trixie reaches into her jacket pocket and produces a lighter and a crumpled packet of cigarettes. She crosses to Patsy, hands her her bag from her shoulder, then holds out the open cigarette packet towards her.

“Marlboros?” Patsy asks as she slides one out from the packet.

“It’s so hard to find Sobranies, I’ve decided I’m just going to stop being picky. And I nick yours enough anyways, I’ve desensitised myself to them.”

“So, wait, does this mean you’re, like, a lesbian, then?” Barbara asks abruptly, biting the skin around her thumbnail.

(In her defence, she _does_ still seem a little bit drunk.)

Trixie rolls her eyes.

“No, Barbara, she just goes about kissing girls in kitchens for fun.” She says sarcastically, lighting her own cigarette and then Patsy’s, who takes a long, steadying drag of it.

“Oh. Okay, that explains a lot of things, actually.”

“What ‘things?’”

“Well, first of all, you’ve got lots of pictures of pretty girls on your noticeboard but there isn’t _one_ of a boy. Oh, and, _also_ , remember when we went to see _Lady Bird_ and Trixie and I both fancied Timothée Chalamet but you wouldn’t stop talking about Saoirse Ronan for, like, a week? Yeah, that’s all starting to make sense now.”

Barbara leans over to steal Trixie’s cigarette, a habit she’s developed recently whenever she’s had a few drinks.

“You know you could just ask for one of your own.” Trixie says, although she surrenders her cigarette quite willingly.

“No, because _that_ would make me a smoker.”

“Wait a minute - you _both_ knew?” Patsy asks, blushing from mild embarrassment.

“Well, I didn’t _know_ -“

“You were a _little_ bit obvious, sweetie.” Trixie says, playfully nudging Patsy with her shoulder. “I’ve known for _ages_.”

“Yes, well, _I_ know _that_. You’ve been hinting about it constantly for the past, like, 2 days.”

Trixie grins, looking quite proud of herself, and steals her cigarette back from Barbara. Patsy’s phone buzzes in her pocket again. She reaches for it, then grimaces when she sees who’s calling.

“Delia?” Trixie asks, seeing the look on Patsy’s face.

Patsy nods in lieu of an answer and angles the phone so Trixie can read the screen.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’ sounds about right.” Patsy sighs.

“So? Are you going to answer it?”

“No.” The redhead says shortly, turning off her phone and shoving it back into her pocket.

“Patsy-“

“I just - I can’t, Trixie. Not tonight. Okay?”

Trixie frowns, but doesn’t press on. The trio stands in silence as Patsy and Trixie finish their cigarettes. After a while, Trixie unfolds her arms and stubs what’s left of her cigarette out on the low wall behind her.

“Come on then, I’m freezing my arse off out here.” She shoves her hands in her jacket pockets for dramatic effect. “Let’s go. Barbara, are you okay?”

Barbara is looking extremely woozy, her arms wrapped around herself. She looks like she might topple over if there's a strong enough gust of wind.

“I actually don’t feel very well again. I think maybe that cigarette wasn’t a very good idea.”

“You had, like, two puffs, babe - you’ll be fine, don’t worry, you just need to walk it off.”

Trixie is proved almost immediately wrong as Barbara suddenly pales, raises one hand to excuse herself, and then turns and vomits into the gutter behind her.

(At least she has good aim.)

“Classy.”

“I did tell you we’d see that Tequila Rose again.” Patsy replies, equally sarcastic, but eventually takes pity on the younger girl and holds her hair back as she retches.

“How much did you even have to drink?” Trixie asks, entirely unhelpfully.

“That bottle of Echo Falls and, like, two shots.” Barbara manages to answer between heaves.

“Lightweight.”

Barbara rolls her eyes. She stands up and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Patsy’s nose crinkles.

“That’s literally disgusting, Babs.”

“I’ve just thrown up on the _street_.”

“Still.” Patsy rifles through her bag, producing items one by one. “Here - hand gel, tissues, chewing gum.“

Barbara looks at the items in Patsy’s outstretched hands, smiles gratefully, thenpromptly bends over and throws up again.

* * *

“He _didn’t_ snog you?”

“No! Like, what the fuck is that even about?” Trixie cries, downing the rest of her drink and climbing onto the foot of the bed beside Barbara. “I literally wore the sluttiest dress I own and he just wanted to sit there and _talk_. Talk!”

“God forbid.” Patsy says, reaching for the secret bottle of vodka she keeps under her bed. Trixie raises her eyebrows and holds out her glass.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be commenting on other people’s romantic encounters tonight, Patsy Mount. Refill, please.”

Patsy blushes and smiles a little guiltily, topping up Trixie’s glass.

(Barbara had thrown up in Patsy’s en-suite two more times since they’d got there and had subsequently been banned from any further alcohol. Instead, she’d been placated with a mug of well-sugared tea and a bit of toast made by Trixie, who had actually turned out to be quite helpful once she had stopped laughing.)

“You haven’t told us anything about the actual kiss, Patsy.” Barbara says, passing the bottle of Coke beside her to Trixie. She’s leaning against the wall, her legs in Trixie’s lap and wearing one of Patsy’s jumpers. It’s two sizes too big for her, and with no make up on and a cushion clutched to her chest, she looks several years younger than she actually is.

“It was with Delia, everyone saw, I’m never going to live it down. Next question?”

Barbara groans. Trixie rolls her eyes.

“ _I_ didn’t see it-“

“It was your first one! We told you all about our first ones!”

“-And you _will_ live it down, stop being a drama queen.”

Patsy looks at her friends’ expectant faces and sighs.

“Look, I just feel a bit weird talking about her when she isn’t here.”

“I talk about Tom _all_ the time when he’s not here.”

“That’s different. Delia - well, she’s sort of our friend now, isn’t she? Well, maybe not _my_ friend after tonight but - it just feels, like, a bit wrong, you know?”

A beat passes as Trixie and Barbara muse that over.

“Do you not think it’s _so_ weird Christopher moved school in Year 13 and not Year 12?” Trixie says, changing the subject effortlessly.

“I was _literally_ going to say this the other day-“

* * *

School doesn’t go quite as badly as Patsy had expected.

Well, practically everyone in the entire school seems to know about her kiss with Delia, but between Trixie glaring at people who even look at her the wrong way and Barbara’s general sunny, non-confrontational disposition, most of the (very unsubtle) stares and whispers directed at her are shut down before they can develop into anything more.

There is one incident on the way to biology that makes her feel queasy. She ends up feeling very thankful for Trixie and her particularly talent for making sticking her foot out and tripping someone up look like a genuine acccident.

“Oi, Mount, is it true you’re a d-“

The girl who shouted (she’s a year or two younger than them and Patsy doesn’t even know her name) goes sprawling, only saving herself from falling completely by grabbing onto her friend’s backpack. The entire corridor dissolves into laughter. Trixie looks very smug.

“Dickhead.” She murmurs, and links her arm through Patsy’s.

So, school is okay. Tolerable, even.

Except it’s Thursday and she hasn’t seen Delia all week.

Well, she has _seen_ her - she’s been sitting with Lucille and her group on the couches at the other side of the common room - but the two of them haven’t spoken or even been within close proximity of each other since Saturday night.

Which is fine.

Like, so completely 100% fine.

Because Patsy knows it’s her own fault. She’s the one who had ignored Delia’s texts from the weekend and who had avoided eye contact with her on Monday morning and who has spent nearly a whole week gazing at her longingly from across the common area instead of actually just broaching the subject of _The Kiss_ and-

“Hey.” She’s pulled out of her thoughts by Trixie clicking her fingers in front of her face. “Stop staring at Delia.”

Patsy blushes slightly as she turns in her chair to face Trixie.

“I wasn’t staring at her.”

(She was.)

(Delia’s hair is in ponytail today.)

“Yeah, whatever.” Trixie says sceptically.

“Have you spoken to her?” Barbara asks, opening a bag of crisps.

“Obviously she hasn’t or she wouldn’t be spending her lunchtime with her eyes practically glued to her.”

“They are not _glued_ -“

“All I’m _saying_ is - are you really just going to spend the rest of the year staring forlornly at her from across the room? I literally can’t take it anymore, Patsy. This isn’t _Pride and Prejudice_.”

“Oh, I _love Pride and Prejudice_.”

“Yeah, same, but that really isn’t my point here, Barbara.” Trixie turns her attention back to Patsy. “My point is that you like her and she _clearly_ likes you and you _literally_ had your tongue down her throat at the weekend, so just - talk to her.”

“It isn’t that simple.” Patsy says, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

“Except it is. You said it yourself, we’re meant to be friends with her now and-“

“Have _you_ spoken to Christopher yet?” Barbara interjects.

Trixie stops speaking abruptly. Patsy smirks. Trixie glares at both of them.

“Shut up.” She huffs, reaching across to steal one of Barbara’s crisps.

Barbara and Patsy exchange a raised eyebrow as the bell rings.

“Are you off?” Trixie asks Patsy, reaching for her bag.

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go to the library and start my UCAS stuff. I’ll walk with you.”

* * *

Patsy loves the Nonnatus library.

It’s old and draughty and has high ceilings and smells like old books and, if she gets there early enough, she can curl up amongst the science textbooks on her favourite armchair against the radiator, school laptop propped up on her knees.

She’s always hated studying at home, so she’d spent hours holed up in the library during her GCSEs, surrounded by mind-maps and highlighters and worksheets, a nice little safe space for her to concentrate and work.

But today her focus is shot. She sits, laptop open, and stares at the screen vacantly, drumming her fingers against the fabric of the chair.

She’s glad Lucille has taken Delia under her wing.

Really she is.

Lucille is _so_ lovely, and at least it means Delia isn’t on her own.

But Patsy wants to be the one sitting beside Delia in the common room.

Which is so horribly cliché and mushy and would probably make Trixie roll her eyes if she said it out loud but-

“You are troubled, Miss Mount.”

Patsy jumps, nearly dropping her laptop in the process. Sister Monica Joan is standing a few feet in front of her, a stack of (if her boarding school days taught her correctly) Latin books in her arms.

Patsy has always had a lot of respect for Sister Monica Joan. She’d been a teacher at Nonnatus since it had opened, and a nun even longer. She’s far too old to teach now, of course, but she’s spoken about with nothing but admiration from Nonnatus pupils, both past and present. She also really supposed to be able to get into the school, but she’s smarter than she seems, and, with the rest of the nuns teaching all day, she often slips from the neighbouring convent into the school, relatively unnoticed.

Patsy likes her. Sure, she’s a little bit batty, but she’s harmless, and she’s funny without meaning to be. She spends a lot of time in the library reading volumes of Keats or Shakespeare plays.

(She’s also been known to completely rearrange the library books by some arbitrary detail if left alone for long enough before someone notices she’s going missing. The ‘people who would sit next to each other at a dinner party’ arrangement remains a Nonnatus legend - even if some of the books have yet to recover from it.)

“Sister! You gave me a fright.” Patsy says, automatically closing her laptop and sitting up straight in her chair in the presence of a staff member. “I’m just trying to start my uni application so I can send it off for the Oxbridge deadline.”

“You are concerned about entering the world of scholars?”

“Oh, no. I mean, yes, I am - obviously, I’m nervous about sending my application away but that isn’t...that’s not what I was thinking about.”

“What ails you, then, child?”

Patsy doesn’t know what it is about the nun, but she always seems to get people to talk from their heart.

“I-I’m good at school, Sister, you know? I’ve always been good at school. I’m smart and I get really good exams grades and I’m an excellent Oxbridge candidate. But it’s the only thing that I’m _really_ good at. And now there’s a...someone and I can’t even _do_ my schoolwork properly anymore because all I can do is think about them. But I’m _not_ good at emotions or feelings or-or telling people how I feel, and _certainly_ not how I feel about them. But I want to. Like, really really _really_ want to explain to them how I feel and everyone makes it seem like it’s so easy but - it’s not. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I ruin everything even more than I’ve already ruined it? I’ve already messed everything up once with them - I can’t do it again.”

Sister Monica Joan smiles at her. It’s a wise smile - one that makes the receiver feel instantly comforted, one that comes from years of knowledge and experience. 

“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love.” Sister Monica Joan quotes, looking quite pleased with herself when she finished.

Patsy is silent for a moment as she processes the nun’s words.

“Is that a Bible passage, Sister? I’ve never heard that one before.”

Sister Monica Joan nods.

“John.”

(And, really, getting lesbian dating advice in the form of bible verses from a _nun_ was not something Patsy had imagined herself doing. Ever.)

“ _There_ you are, Sister!”

Miss Mannion appears amongst the shelves, looking relieved. She lays a hand on Sister Monica Joan’s shoulder.

“Sister Julienne and I have been looking everywhere for you.” Miss Mannion turns her attention to Patsy. “Sorry, Patsy, love - Sister Julienne and I took our eyes off her for two minutes and she had disappeared. I hope she didn’t bother you too much.”

“No, um, we-we were having a really nice chat, actually.”

Miss Mannion smiles warmly.

“Starting your UCAS stuff, early?” She asks, nodding towards the laptop balancing on Patsy’s legs. “Oh, wait, you’re going for medicine, aren’t you? That’s the October deadline, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Well, good luck, dear. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

Patsy watches as Miss Mannion ushers Sister Monica Joan out of the library, the nun’s words looping around her head.

Sister Monica Joan really does have a remarkable talent for always saying the right thing without ever realising it.

She doesn’t _love_ Delia.

But she _does_ owe her an explanation.

And maybe that explanation doesn’t need to be perfect.

Maybe it just needs to be honest. 

* * *

She nearly misses Delia at the end of the day - she’s halfway along the corridor with her bag by the time Patsy even reaches the common room. She chases after her, catches her on the main staircase, nearly looses her footing on the steps as she pushes past other students.

“Delia! Delia, wait, please.”

Delia doesn’t even turn around. The staircase might be noisy with the chatter of girls walking by, but there’s no way the brunette hasn’t heard her.

“ _Delia_!” Patsy shouts, and it’s loud.enough that multiple people on the stairs halt.

Delia whips round, her ponytail swinging with the movement.

“ _What_?”

Patsy takes a step backwards, mildly winded by the anger in Delia’s voice.

“I just - I thought - I wanted to talk to you about...” Patsy tails off, suddenly very aware of the other girls surrounding them.

“And _I_ wanted to talk to you about it on Saturday night and every day since then, and you have ignored me _every single time_ I tried.” Delia says fiercely, using her hands to add emphasis to her words. “But now that _you_ want to talk about it so I just have to stop where I am and have a conversation with you?"

_Oh._

Patsy hadn’t been expecting _that_.

Delia turns around with a huff and continues down the stairs. Patsy stares blankly at her retreating figure.

Someone shoves past her, knocks her into the railing, then something in her brain takes over instinctively, and, before she even realises what’s she’s doing, she’s flying down the rest of the stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste.

She catches up with Delia as the younger girl reaches the bottom of the stairs and steps in front of her to block her path.

“Patsy, I _really_ don’t have time for this, I-“

“Just - one minute, Delia, please.”

Delia frowns, but relents, folding her arms as she looks up at Patsy expectantly. Patsy pinches the bridge of her nose.

She realises, probably too late, that she hasn’t actually thought of anything to say.

Delia scoffs after a few seconds of silence from the redhead, and turns on her heel to walk away. Patsy reaches out desperately and grabs her wrist, forcing the brunette to turn back and look at her.

“I run.” She starts, and she has no idea where she’s going with it, but she has to say something, anything, before Delia walks away for good. “When I’m scared, I don’t fight it out, I run away. I’m scared of confrontation. I never know the right thing to say, so I always say the wrong thing instead. So, I run. Because it’s easier. Because it means that I don’t have to deal with consequences. But...I shouldn’t have run on Saturday night. It wasn’t fair, and - I’m sorry.”

Patsy meets Delia’s eyes for the first time. Delia doesn’t say anything, but her impatient expression has shifted into a much gentler one.

And, despite the clusters of girls she can see watching them out the corner of her eye, Patsy takes a step towards Delia and lowers her voice.

“I don’t do relationships or-or kissing or...anything like that. I don’t have any experience with _any_ of that stuff. I mean, nobody even knew I...liked girls until Saturday night. But I like _you_ , Delia. Like, a _lot_. And maybe that sounds cliché - or maybe it just makes me sound like a complete twat - but you really are one of the loveliest girls I’ve ever met. And I don’t want to run away from this. If anything, I want to run towards it, I mean, I-"

Delia cuts her off before she can start rambling properly.

“Patsy, stop.” Delia says, laughter in her voices, holding her hands out in front of her. For a moment, it looks likes she’s going to rest them on Patsy’s arms, but then she thinks better of it and clasps them behind her back. Patsy answers her with a guilty, lopsided smile.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve come after you properly, especially when you didn’t answer my texts. But, God, you’re _so_ intimidating - you’re older, and you’re _so_ smart and _so_ pretty, and I’m new here, and when you ran away, I just panicked, I didn’t know what to do. And then, when you wouldn’t talk to me, when you didn’t answer the phone, I thought I’d fucked everything up, that I’d ruined any tiny fraction of a chance I might’ve had with you but - well, the truth is, I really like you, too, Pats.”

And _there’s_ that beautiful dimpled smile.

“Well, at least I know I haven’t embarrassed myself in front of everyone for no reason now.”

Delia giggles, rocking on the balls of her feet. The two girls stand together for a minute, just smiling at each other, and then Delia suddenly gasps and looks down at her phone in her hand.

“Shit, I need to go, I’m going to miss my bus - I’ll see you tomorrow? If-if that’s okay with you, I mean-“

“Of course it is. Sit with us in the common room?”

“I’d love to.” Delia says, smiling brightly enough that she could probably give the sun a run for it’s money. “Okay. Goodbye.”

“Bye."

Patsy watches as Delia disappears through the double doors at the end of the corridor, her hands in her blazer pockets, unable to keep the smile from her face.

“What the fuck’s going on down here?”

Patsy jumps at Trixie’s voice. The blonde is standing on the bottom step, leaning against the bannister, her arms folded as she surveys the corridor.

She's obviously bullshitting - Trixie is a gossip at heart, and there’s not one single doubt in Patsy’s mind that she had been watching the exchange between her and Delia the whole time from somewhere.

“Nothing.” Patsy shrugs off nonchalantly, going along with Trixie’s charade. “Come on, let’s go, Nanny said she was making brownies today.”

Patsy takes her car key from her pocket and waves it in the air. Trixie quirks her eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything, falling into step with the redhead as the two of them walk along the corridor. Patsy turns to Trixie as they lean against the double doors to open them.

“Oh, I’ve made up with Delia, by the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really hope everyone is doing okay with the new uk lockdown restrictions, and also just with the crazy few days we've had news-wise lately <3
> 
> uni started back for me today - i'm not sure how this is gonna affect updates since i'm at home and everything is online, however i will still try to update as frequently as possible x
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter - it was originally meant to be quite a bit shorter than this, but as i was writing it, it decided to go on for longer and i thought i might as well let it :)
> 
> \- b x <3


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